


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 






































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Price, 50c. 


Number 42 



JUL3018§8 


JSelmore 
Series 
m , 42 

n 

ROBERT 

REXDALE 


The 

Cuban 

Liberated 



Price 50 Cents 


American 

Publishers 

Corporation 


Issisecl Quarterly 
j Annual 

Subsfcription, $ 2.00 


Entered as Second- 
Class Matter 
; at the 

New York, N. Y., 
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THE CUBAN LIBERATED 




I 








































THE CUBAN LIBERATED 

OR 

SAVED BY THE SWORD 


BY 

J 


Robert Rexdale 

it 


Author of “ Drifting Songs,” Etc. 



NEW YORK 

American Publishers Corporation 

310-318 Sixth Avenue 


Copyright, 1896 

BY 

American Publishers Corporation 


SAVED BY THE SWORD, 


CHAPTER I. 


“ Her eye’s dark charm ’twere vain to tell, — 
But gaze on that of the gazelle, 

It will assist thy fancy well! 

As large, as languishingly dark. 

But soul beamed forth in every spark 
That darted from beneath the lid.” 

— Byron. 



RIGHT clever thrust, 
you Cuban dog I But 
look well to your sword, 
for I will kill you ! ” 

The speaker, Roderick 
Brawn, who with lower- 
ing brow watched each 
movement of his younger 
and more agile opponent, was a 
duelist of the Virginian school ; 
a man cruel by nature, though 
handsome of face and form ; skilled 
in using the deadly weapons of his profession, and 
with a seeming disregard for the sacredness of life. 


10 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


His appearance in Boston, shortly after the deca- 
dence of southern institutions following the Rebellion, 
was marked by no outward show of surprise. The 
close of the Sixties saw troublous times. Society 
had been shaken by the shock of arms, and had 
become corrupted by the bitterness of internecine 
strife, till a spirit of indifference was rife in all the 
larger cities of the country. 

Thus the advent of the duelist Roderick Brawn, 
as a gentlemanly exponent of the art of fencing, was 
a matter of small surprise in this bustling city of the 
East. 

Those who frequented the duelist’s apartments, 
and bartered their ducats for a nominal proficiency 
in handling the foils, were captivated by the suavity 
of the swordsman ; and as a natural sequence, he 
became the tutelary god of many a youth of gilded 
fortune, who was fortunate indeed if gambling and 
its allied vices did not entail their heritage of 
degradation . 

To the police he was known as a dangerous man — 
one whom, so long as he committed no flagrant 
breach of the law, it were politic to refrain from 
meddling with. 

There had, however, been rumors of a fatal meet- 
ing at Brighton, growing out of some dispute over 
the cards in a fashionable club house where Roderick 
Brawn was a visitor. But the matter was so effect- 
ually hushed, that the true history of his victim’s 
death is locked within a few faithful breasts. 

Ah ! well, perhaps it is better so. In days of 
sudden deaths, when the heart-strings snap from 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


11 


excessive tension, it is easy to say with the poet, — 

“ Only a heart whose pulsations are o’er, 

Only a form that will journey no more, 

Only a shade for the Stygian shore — 

Dropped dead ! ” 

So much for the early history of Roderick Brawn, 
which at the time of our story we find identified with 
the unwritten annals of a great city. 

In the lapse of years, his haughty nature has felt 
the influence of that genial atmosphere which per- 
meates the surroundings of a man of the world. 
There remain the same dexterity of hand, the same 
quickness of vision, that guided his flashing foil 
to a vulnerable point, without that repellent manner 
once so noticeable. Yet to-night, as the sword of 
Juan Fernandez, disdaining the blade opposed to its 
progress, inflicts a vexing wound in his shoulder, 
Roderick Brawn in anger drops the smiling mask 
which has rendered him an enigma to all who would 
know the workings of his brain. 

“A right clever thrust, you Cuban dog !” does 
not imply commendation for a pupil’s skill. The 
words have a tinge of bitterness in their tone that 
augurs ill for Juan Fernandez. 

The young Cuban is quick to perceive their signifi- 
cance, for a fierce, strangely vindictive light comes 
into his eyes, and an ominous frown darkens his 
handsome features, as he stands, sword in hand, 
before the wounded duelist. 

“ I know you now, Senor Roderico ! ” he says in 
excellent English. “You have forced me to fight 
that you may kill me ! ” 


12 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


“ I always kill my man,” returned the swordsman 
doggedly. “ And think you, now that a lucky 
stroke of yours has aroused the demon in me, I will 
make a show of mercy? No, there shall be no boys’ 
play here ! ” 

“As a friend, I would bid you be wary, Roderick 
Brawn,” the surgeon had said to him. “ You have 
no common adversary in this Cuban. I hear he had 
for his instructor the deadly Mazzantini of Havana. 
They tell of his wonderful work with the foils at 
Harvard, and he has a cool head in spite of his Cas- 
tilian temperament.” 

“Bah! You Yankee doctors know nothing of 
dueling ! ” was Brawn’s uncivil reply. “After this 
night you, at least, will have had some valuable ex- 
perience.” 

The conversation of the group was carried on in 
a low tone of voice, since the quietude of the mid- 
night hour, unbroken save by the rumbling of some 
belated vehicle, rendered detection not wholly im- 
probable. 

The carriages containing Brawn and the Cuban, 
together with their seconds and the surgeon, had 
stopped at the least noticeable point, and the drivers 
— two Jehus known to most men about town after 
the conventional early hours — were yawning on their 
boxes by the roadside, apparently indifferent to what 
was taking place so long as the night’s adventure 
would bring its own reward. 

“We have no time for idle words, gentlemen,” 
said Colonel Graham at length. 

At this brusque warning from the military gentle- 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


13 


man who had arranged the details of the meeting 
with soldierly exactness and promptitude, the two 
combatants resumed the duel in ominous silence. 

Roderick Brawn, with white, firmly set lips, looked 
the incarnation of evil as his eyes met the unflinch- 
ing gaze of the Cuban. 

As for Juan Fernandez, the look of boyish triumph 
that followed his slight victory over the duelist had 
vanished, and in its place rested an expression of 
seriousness, suggestive rather of sadness than fear 
of the danger that menaced him. 

That events which precede the meeting of Brawn 
and Fernandez may be understood, since the unity 
of the story demands their recapitulation, the reader 
is asked to attend in imagination the masked ball 
given at a palatial residence on Beacon Hill, where 
the fashionable world, in that maddening round of 
gayety that follows the solemn season of Lent, have 
gathered to do homage to the god of pleasure. 

A home magnificent in all that luxury can supply ; 
yet barren of real happiness. Redolent to-night of 
bloom and beauty, filled with music and the laughter 
of its guests ; but on the morrow the cloister of two 
hearts that dwell apart within its stately loneliness. 

Think of this, ye toilers in life’s humble ways, 
when your eyes with longing turn to towering piles. 
For, like the mansion of Clifford Reinhardt, they 
may be only the semblance of that bliss you so 
fondly picture for those upon whom fortune has 
showered her favors. 

The scene within the brilliantly lighted ball room 


14 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


suggests a German fete in the Rhineland, which the 
strains of a Strauss waltz, coming from an unseen 
orchestra in the conservatory, render intensely real- 
istic. 

Beautiful women and handsome men — the flower 
of the aristocracy — are among the figures thread- 
ing the mazy windings of the dance. The gay cos- 
tumes of the ladies have been chosen with a discrim- 
ination nicely adjusted to the beauty of the wearers, 
since their slight masks cannot hide the charm of 
heaving bosoms and glancing eyes. Ah ! what con- 
quests are made within the life of a single waltz. 

The music has ceased, and the dancers are stand- 
ing in little groups, or strolling in couples toward 
the refreshment room, where cooling sherbets and 
ices are served amid a Babel of chatter and gayety. 

But look — oh ! strange infatuation — at yonder Fra 
Diavolo and the queenly Cleopatra, who have drawn 
upon themselves an inordinate curiosity by prolong- 
ing the waltz till the very echoes of the music have 
died away. 

They seem unconscious of the fact that the dance 
has ended, for away they are whirling under the 
spell of that melody born of the soul, oblivious of all 
save their own existence. It is not possible, since 
they still retain their masks, to watch the play of 
countenance seen in two people whose conversation 
is intended solely for each other ; but the veriest 
dolt cannot help thinking that this “ glorious sor- 
ceress of the Nile” is captivated by the dashing 
bandit chief, and that both have identified themselves 
with the romantic characters assumed. Whispers of 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


15 


mysterious import circulate freely among the throng 
of watchers. 

“Who is Fra Diavolo?” * * * “Who is 

Cleopatra ? ” 

Yet among them there is one who recognizes the 
woman, while the identity of her companion baffles 
even the jealous scrutiny of a husband’s eye. 

Clifford Reinhardt, with illy concealed interest, 
had watched the couple from the beginning of the 
waltz, and in the character of a courtier had shad- 
owed them with baleful glances. The bribery of her 
maid had enabled him to spy upon his wife’s move- 
ments, since she knew the character in which her 
mistress would appear. 

“So, my false beauty, ” he muttered in low, in- 
audible tones, “this is my return for the pleasure 
I would give you. Fool that I am to longer 
believe you innocent ! ” 

Jealousy, excitement, the thought that she is 
playing him false beneath his own roof, render the 
shrewd, impassive broker reckless in a trying mo- 
ment. The sight of his wife listening to the sweet 
flattery of a masquerading lover maddens him. And 
in the midst of it all, the memory of the babe asleep 
with its nurse up stairs — upon whose life his young 
wife had lavished the affection denied to him — is 
like the sudden plunging of a dagger into his doubt- 
ing heart. 

“Oh, this cursed doubt,” he moans in spirit. 
“ How it weighs me down.” 

Reinhardt had known that feeling before when do- 
mestic storms obscured the matrimonial skies, but 


16 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


never so intensely as to-night. And yet, as the 
dancers draw near him, there is a loving pathos in 
his low, quickly uttered words : 

“Madeline! Madeline! Stop this madness, I 
command you !” 

The woman raises her head from Fra Diavolo’s 
shoulder and looks about in a bewildered way. She 
seems to realize the situation with intuitive grasp, 
and summons all her feminine courage to baffle that 
searching gaze of the masked throng seeking to pen- 
etrate their disguises. 

Fra Diavolo, too, is quick to perceive that he and 
his fair companion have unhappily blundered into 
notoriety. One cannot help thinking, at this mo- 
ment, how well they assume their respective char- 
acters. He with all that self-assurance, bravado and 
effective gallantry associated with the name of the 
handsome brigand. She an ideal Cleopatra, proud 
in her disdain — with large, dark, flashing eyes — 
just such a woman as we imagine could sway the 
heart of a Ptolemy or an Antony. 

“Quick!” she whispers. “My husband must 
not find you here. Lead me to the conservatory ; 
from there you can reach the balcony, and escape 
through the garden ! Oh, the miserable ending of 
this night ! — when I had hoped to be so happy, free 
from the espionage of jealous eyes.” 

By this time they had passed from the ball room, 
and paused in the friendly shadow of a flowering 
cactus, near the low window opening to the balcony. 

“The fault is mine,” he is saying. "I should not 
have come. But not upon you, — Madelina ! — must 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


17 


his vengeance fall. I will stay and meet Senor 
Reinhardt ! ” 

“No! No! You forget my position. A wife 

does not desire conviction in her husband’s sight. 

My safety — your own as well — depends upon your 

instant flight. In mercy to an erring woman, spare 

me the humiliation of a scene! Go — see, there 

is some one coming: ! ” 

© 

Clifford Reinhardt had seen his mistake in thus 
betraying himself ; and, after the first flash of anger, 
he too made his way in the direction of the conserv- 
atory. He had a horror of public scandal. True, 
he had not changed his bachelorhood for that con- 
jugal felicity which, in marriages where love is the 
uniting power, arises like incense from the hymeneal 
altar. It was the old story of wealth, social position, 
crafty lovemaking, upon the one side ; and upon the 
other a cold, imperious beauty, who had married 
well, as the world goes, but who, in yielding to the 
parental wish, had gone as a lamb to the sacrifice. 
Yet, we know, it is not uncommon for people who 
wed unhappily to live a life of partial estrangement 
beneath the same roof, and still so conduct them- 
selves in the eyes of society as to appear wholly 
satisfied with their lot. 

The horror of such an existence — with no recip- 
rocal affection to soften the austerity of life’s duties, 
and with a knowledge possessed by each that they 
are daily drifting apart — is a merited but perhaps 
severe punishment of the folly of forming an alliance 
in its very nature antagonistic to the Creator’s plan. 

Two years of such marital experience had told 


18 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


heavily upon Clifford Reinhardt, and had added to 
the tell-tale “crows’ feet” very preceptibly. He 
was not so young as his beautiful wife by twenty 
years on their marriage day. But at forty a man need 
not be considered old, though grey hair and thought- 
ful, refined mannerisms, give warning of approaching 
age. 

If it were not for his extreme jealousy, which 
made him the enemy of every man his wife chose 
to be even gracious toward, he might have plunged 
into the gayety of the time, and by relaxing some- 
what his system of espionage among the servants, 
could perhaps have materially lessened the breach 
between himself and Madeline, since no woman can 
be won by outspoken distrust of her marriage vows. 

It was this jealous feeling that now impelled him 
to the rash resolve of tearing the mask from the 
face of Fra Diavolo, regardless of the courtesy due 
from him to one of his guests ; if, indeed, it should 
prove, which Reinhardt would fain not believe, that 
he came by invitation of the master rather than the 
mistress of the house. Intent on doing this, he had 
approached the couple in the conservatory unper- 
ceived, until only the tall cactus plant separated him 
from them. With sudden, fierce pain at his heart, 
he heard their whispered good-night, and saw the 
stranger bend over her jeweled hand. 

Then, hoarse with passion, Reinhardt sprang 
toward him as he moved in the direction of the bal- 
cony. 

“ Villain ! ” he cried, 4 4 unmask before me, that I 
may look upon the man who thus betrays my confi- 
dence ! ” 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


19 


The mute appealing look in the eyes of Cleopatra, 
meant for him alone, decides the course to be taken 
by Fra Diavolo, for he reads therein the dread of 
having her husband gain the knowledge he so much 
desires. So, fearing to speak, lest his voice betray 
him, he remains silent. 

“ By heaven ! then, I will do what you dare not,” 
said Reinhardt, grasping at the mask that concealed 
the other’s features, save a dark, curling moustache, 
and handsome, firmly-set mouth. 

A short, quick blow from Fra Diavolo, staggers 
the broker for a moment and causes him to relax 
his hold on the stranger, who, passing hurriedly 
into the garden, is lost in the darkness of night. 
****** 

On her husband becoming involved in a quarrel 
with the masked stranger, Mrs. Reinhardt had fled 
to her own room, the windows of which overlooked 
the garden below. I will do her the justice to say 
she deeply regretted her share in the night’s episode ; 
but the fact that she had been spied upon in all her 
actions, through the connivance of her husband with 
those who knew the part she intended to take in the 
masquerade, left a sting that rankled in her proud 
bosom like a poisoned barb. 

“If it were not for baby,” she moaned, “I would 
leave this prison for ever ! ” 

The thought of her child led her irresistibly to 
nurse’s room, to find the baby sleeping soundly and 
sweetly in his crib. Thrilled with love for her child, 
she bent to kiss the pretty face nestled between two 
chubby fists ; but fearing to wake him, she instead 


20 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


lightly pressed his tangled curls and returned with 
trembling heart to her own apartments. 

A sudden fear was inspired by the ominous crack 
of a pistol borne on the night wind, followed by the 
deep, savage barking of the watch-dog, and a con- 
fused murmur of voices. These told her, plainer 
than words, that Fra Diavolo had been discovered 
and was being hunted down. 

The guests in alarm had voluntarily unmasked, 
and her absence from the ball room might be noticed, 
she thought. But to appear among them as Cleo- 
patra, after the scene just enacted, would be fatal in 
its consequences. So, summoning her maid, she ex- 
changed the rich, voluptuous garments of the Egyp- 
tian, for a robe of cardinal hue that displayed her 
brunette beauty to a rare degree. 

“There is terrible times below, ma’am,” said the 
garrulous Mary. “Thomas saw a robber stealing 
off through the garden, and he untied his dog, and 
the police has come, and they is all searching the 
premises.” 

“ Yes, yes,” she said in answer, “ I know. But 
hurry, so I may see the silver isn’t stolen.” 

So far she breathed free, since all thought the man 
in the garden some thief who had gained an entrance 
during the confusion of the masquerade. 

"Oh, that he may elude them ! ” was her inmost 
prayer. 

She thankfully noted that her husband was not in 
sight when she descended to bid the ladies good- 
night. His presence might provoke a scene, and 
lead to consequences she was straining every nerve 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


21 


to avert. If she could avoid him until morning, 
when his anger would have lost much of its viru- 
lence, she felt that, guilty as she was of justly 
arousing his indignation, she could then meet him 
without compromising her honor as a woman, how- 
ever culpable she might appear in her duty as a wife 
and the mother of his child. 

" You poor dear!” was the sympathetic outburst 
that greeted Mrs. Reinhardt from all sides as she 
appeared among her friends, — "weren’t you dread- 
fully frightened?” 

Scarcely divining their meaning, she answers in 
such language as seems to serve the occasion best, 
and with a vague idea that the supposititious burglar 
is in some way connected with herself in the minds 
of her guests. 

"It’s so horrible to find a robber in the house, and 
especially searching for one’s jewels in one’s very 
room ! ” 

" The wonder is he did not kill you ! ” 

"I know I should have fainted, had I been in your 
place ! ” 

These and similar remarks, quite unintelligible to 
her, prompt the reply : 

"I — I — am not so sure that I understand you.” 

"Why, didn’t you see the robber opening your 
jewel box?” they chorus in return. "Mr. Rein- 
hardt and the officers have tracked him to the gar- 
den, you know.” 

"Yes,” she answers, "I know some thief has been 
discovered, but I did not see him. And I have just 
left my room.” 


22 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


"Oh, then it must have been your maid. She has 
been telling us of the robbery and her struggle with 
the burglar upstairs.” 

The truth is Mary had been giving the frightened 
ladies a graphic description of her heroism ; and as 
the whole affair was one of pure fiction, invented by 
the maid to gratify a morbid desire for notoriety, 
her mistress evinced no wish to rob her of the lau- 
rels she had gained, since the romance tended to 
distract attention from other things. 

"Mary is a brave girl,” she answers quietly. 

A servant appeared with the startling intelligence 
that an officer had captured the burglar, after a 
spirited resistance, and was bringing him into the 
vestibule for identification ; but beyond a slight show 
of excitement, no more nor less than is common to 
womankind in the presence of impending danger, 
Mrs. Reinhardt gave no outward signs of her emo- 
tion. 

She seems impelled toward the spot where the 
officer is standing with his prisoner, surrounded by 
a curious crowd, drawn together by a desire to catch 
a glimpse of his face. Eager, yet fearing to meet 
his gaze, she presses nearer to the throng, until a 
pair of large, wildly-rolling eyes, fix themselves 
upon her own and plead for protection with silent 
eloquence. 

At first she doubts the revelation, for instead of 
Fra Diavolo, struggling in the rough grasp of a 
minion of the law, is beheld a small, misshapen body, 
its deformity consisting of an unsightly hump be- 
tween the shoulders, which imparts to the whole 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


23 


figure a suggestiveness of impish character, and 
makes the arms, now entwining themselves in frantic 
endeavors to unloose the hold of their captor, appear 
of almost superhuman length and activity. 

Yet there is nothing in the appearance of this 
strange youth, thief though he may be, to repel 
generous sympathy ; rather is it true, despite his 
incongruous style of dress, that a kindly eye can sec 
in him qualities which appeal to the philanthropic 
heart. He has a face that in others would be called 
intellectual, and more than comely. Great wide- 
open blue eyes, and curling locks, are not without 
their charm in all conditions of life ; but that very 
charm becomes the more noticeable when its posses- 
sor, like some rare flower struggling to reach the 
sunlight, thrives within the vitiated atmosphere of a 
city’s slums. 

"What is your name, child?” asks Mrs. Rein- 
hardt, moved to pity by that appealing look. 

"Dandy,” is the reply. 

A smile that overspread the features of those crowd- 
ing around him, since the appellation seemed so 
much at variance with his make-up, operated to im- 
press the ladies in his favor. 

"And your other name?” she asks. 

"Only Dandy. That’s wot they all calls me.” 

"Well, then, Dandy,” said the policeman gruffly, 
but not unkindly, "we’ll have to be going ; so you 
may bid the ladies good-night. The Island ’s the 
place tor you. Little thieves won’t get much sym- 
pathy wasted on ’em there.” 

"Oh, missus! don’t let ’em send me to jail!” he 


24 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


pleaded, with those expressive eyes on Mrs. Rein- 
hardt’s face. " I haint stealed nothin’ here. I only 
climbed over the fence so ? s ter hear the moosic, an’ 
pipe o:f the big folks dancing inside. Yer might 
give a poor cove a show ! ” 

A natural feeling of pity prompted her to ask the 
patrolman to let his young prisoner go free. 

"It’s no use, ma’am,” the officer respectfully re- 
plied, "to pity the kid. He’ll only show his grati- 
tude by breaking into the house some dark night. 
If he’ll tell who the other in the garden was, I 
wouldn’t mind so much if he manages to slip away 
from me. T’ other one was a man, and this is only 
a boy.” 

"Don’t I tell yer I’se alone!” broke in Dandy, 
seeing that the policeman’s story about an accom- 
plice would make his case all the more difficult. "I 
only wanted to see the people and listen to the 
moosic.” 

"You have a fine ear for music, you have,” was 
the sarcastic reply, "and six months down the bay 
will give you lots of time to cultivate it. Oh, 
you’re a deep one, you are ! ” 

" Officer, why don’t you take your prisoner away ? ” 
This question was asked by Clifford Reinhardt, who 
hot and excited by his chase in the garden, smarting 
under the insult of the blow from Fra Diavolo, and 
tortured by his wife’s unfaithfulness, was not moved 
by any considerations of mercy for the little hunch- 
back caught peering in at his windows. 

"The child says he did not come here to steal,’ 
said Mrs. Reinhardt, championing Dandy’s cause. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


25 


Her proud, beautiful bearing, as she unflinchingly 
met her husband’s gaze, abashed him for the moment. 

"He is only some street Arab whose fondness for 
music has lured him into your grounds.” 

" And you believe this unlikely story ? ” 

" I do, sir. If my wishes are consulted you will 
not have him sent to prison.” 

"And ours as well, Mr. Reinhardt,” said several 
of the ladies, inspired by the leadership of their 
hostess. 

Seeing that the weight of sympathy inclined so 
strongly toward the prisoner, he questioned the boy, 
and found him straightforward in his answers. 
What more common, he asked himself, than to find 
such as he about the city at night? And he might 
have added, what more natural than that such a one, 
roving aimlessly through the dark streets, should be 
attracted by the sounds of music and gayety within 
some mansion like his own. 

"Since the ladies desire it,” he said, "you may let 
the boy go. I may be acting under a false impulse, 
but as he has not really committed any theft, I will 
not trouble you further.” 

“Very well, sir; if that’s your orders, why all 
right,” said the patrolman. 

When released by the officer, Dandy’s joy 
prompted him to do a double-shuffle before that 
chagrined individual, indicative, presumably, of 
his triumph over arbitrary justice, if one may 
use such a paradoxical expression. His comi- 
cal actions, and the grotesque appearance im- 
parted by a Prince Albert coat, shiny by reason 


26 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


of long wear and several sizes too large, made 
even Reinhardt smile ; and Dandy, after bow- 
ing his thanks to those who had interceded for him, 
was conducted to the door by a servant and told to 
make himself scarce. The alacrity with which the 
little hunch-back acted upon this advice attested his 
eagerness to avoid again falling into the meshes of 
the law. 

It was over at last — the farewells, the hollow- 
hearted nothings, the simulation of happiness — and 
in the quietude of her luxurious chamber, dimly 
lighted by a single gas-jet burning low in the chan- 
delier, Mrs. Reinhardt sat dreamily reviewing the 
events of the past few hours. 

Those who knew this unhappy woman as Madeline 
Maitland, when she was a reigning belle, will tell of 
the charm of manner — more potent than beauty — 
that was the crowning glory of a joyous girlhood. 

If it were with a feeling of apprehension some few 
of her friends watched the unfolding of her charms, 
it was because they guessed Gregory Maitland’s 
great need of money, and feared that, to save him- 
self from the financial wreck that threatened so 
many at the close of the war, the old West India 
merchant would not hesitate to sacrifice his child to 
some rich suitor ; and this, too, in wilful blindness 
as to her heart’s dictates. More than this, it was no 
secret that her education tended to exalt the great 
desirability of wealth, social position, and that pres- 
tige enjoyed by reason of in uential connection, in 
any love affair involving an offer of marriage. And 
so, in her wanton freedom, the girl thought only of 
the present. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


27 


The crisis came at a time when Clifford Reinhardt, 
absenting himself from gay companions at the Bach- 
elors’ Club, was intent upon winning the beautiful 
Madeline for his wife, and he finally made an offer 
of his heart and fortune, only to meet with an un- 
equivocal refusal, couched in such kindly language as 
the girl thought was due her father’s friend. 

But it was none the less a spirited rejection of a 
proud man’s love. Still, like the moth that woos 
destruction in the flame, the rich broker hovered 
within the circle of her charms, till each smile not 
bestowed upon himself was a torture ; while Made- 
line, with girlish thoughtlessness, basked in the 
favor of younger men, and rather preferred the 
society of those who could "lute and flute fantastic 
tenderness” without falling on their knees and call- 
ing her an angel. 

The girl was now in her twentieth year, a favorite 
with all, and ranked among the fairest women of her 
set. That she was cons cious of her beauty, and not 
averse to adulation because of the gift, it is useless 
to deny. The fault, if such it deserves to be called, 
is one not uncommon to her sex. And of all unin- 
teresting women, commend to me those who have 
no adequate conception of their charms, which, be 
they ever so commonplace in the eyes of the casual 
beholder, are deserving of assiduous cultivation. 

"But Madeline had a lover?” you ask. Ah ! im- 
patient reader, it is hard to penetrate the mysteries 
of a woman’s heart ; and infinitely more difficult does 
the task become, when we seek to learn the heart' 
secrets of some gay butterfly of society. 


28 


SAVED BV THE SWORD. 


Suddenly she arose, drew her magnificent figure 
to its full height, and paced excitedly about the 
room. Becoming calmer, there was yet something 
almost tragic in her mein, as with e} 7 es that looked 
beyond the present, and perchance into the dimness 
of a happy past, she stood at her window gazing up 
into the faces of the stars. 

How peaceful it seemed after the excitement of 
the ball room ! The effect was tranquilizing to her 
high-strung nerves, and, lowering her eyes, she 
dwelt upon that vista of peace seemingly spread out 
in illimitable expanse below; — a city sleeping be- 
neath its watchful spires, while beyond lay the 
ocean gleaming like silver in the light of a rising 
moon. 

If these were days of mythological credulity, she 
might look to see the Queen of Love journeying 
toward sea-girt Paphos, drawn in that wonderful 
chariot fashioned by the poetic imagination, and join 
in the ptean accorded to her praise : 

“A brooding calm seems on the western seas, 

As if to list thy swans’ soft-rustling wings! 

A hush as when some love-lorn naiad sings 
To dreamful sleep, beside their crystal springs, 

The nymphs Hesperides.” 

But Madeline was gazing out upon that sea where, 
two centuries before, the pinnace of the Puritan — 
and not the swan-drawn car of Venus — crept gladly 
to the sheltering shores of a new world. Its voice 
to-night has the same music; for though friends 
grow cold, — fortune deserts us, — love puts on the 
habiliments of change, — the sea is ever young and 
full of hope. 


CHAPTER II. 


“Who knows of the tremulous chords of love, 

To the lightest touch that vibrate still? 

As under her wing the stricken dove 
Unmurmuring folds, although it kill, 

The cruel mark of the archer’s skill!” 

— Caroline Dana Howe, 



Wi T was late one summer afternoon, 

T?\rrt^ # 

two years prior to the opening of our 
story, when Gregory Maitland, over 
whose head failure hung like the 
sword of Damocles, ascended Beacon 
Hill and made his way in the direction 
of the broker’s home. 

As chronicled in the previous chap- 
ter, the crisis in the life of the mer- 
chant was in juxtaposition with Clif- 
ford Reinhardt’s offer of marriage to Madeline and 
her polite refusal to become his wife. 

He looked like a man who having formed some 
sudden purpose in his mind, would carry it out to 
the bitter end. His position was indeed painful to 
contemplate. By one of those unlucky strokes of 


fortune, he was reduced to the humiliating expedient 
of raising money to meet urgent obligations, and 
failure to do this meant absolute ruin. And, iri his 


30 


' SAVED BY THE SWOKD. 


hour of extreme need, Reinhardt & Company, whose 
name had tided him over dangerous financial straits 
in times past, had declined to longer endorse his 
paper or lend a helping hand. 

"I am glad to see you, Maitland, indeed I am,” 
said the broker pleasantly, going to a sideboard and 
producing a decanter and glasses. "But before we 
talk business, join me in a glass of wine — rare old 
Madeira, too. Your nerves will feel the better for 
it, after your walk up the hill.” 

The wine was drunk in silence. Maitland was 
singularly silent and reserved ; and Reinhardt had 
too much good sense, under the circumstances that 
induced his visitor’s ill humor, to drink his health in 
the sparkling vintage. 

"Well,” said the merchant at length, "shall we 
proceed ? ” 

"If it suits your pleasure,” Reinhardt answered. 

The latter felt a peculiar feeling stealing over 
him — a chilliness, and nervous tremor — and me- 
chanically helped himself to another glass of Madeira. 
He knew, without one word having been uttered 
upon the subject, that Gregory Maitland had come 
to speak of Madeline in connection with his business 
difficulties. 

"At any cost,” he assured himself, "I will make 
her mine.” At any cost did he say? The enormity 
of the phrase seemed overwhelming, and he modi- 
fied it by mentally resolving, "At any cost but that of 
my honor.” 

“Reinhardt,” said his visitor suddenly, "I sent a 
messenger to your bank to-day.” 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


31 


" Yes,” he answered, pronouncing the monosyllable 
slowly and not without some hesitation. 

" And you refused the Supplication of a drowning 
man ! ” 

"Yes — No. Say, rather, that we were con- 
strained by circumstances from granting your re- 
quest.” 

"But you know what it involves. My God ! Clif- 
ford, think of what you are doing !” 

"All this is very painful to me, my dear Maitland. 
But am I to blame that your ventures turn out 
wrong? Is it I who sink your ships upon the sea, 
or cause the market to fall when you expect it to 
rise ? We cannot go on advancing you these large 
sums of money.” 

"But it is only for a time. A month — a week 
even — may see the end of financial troubles. The 
tide must turn some day.” 

“Some day,” repeated Beinhardt. "A mere 
chimera of speech.” 

" Clifford,” said the old merchant half piteously, 
"for the sake of our former friendship, don’t mock 
me in my misfortune.” 

" Why speak of former friendship, as if it were 
a thing of the past? Are we not yet friends?” 

"Yes, in name, perhaps. But I fancy — I know 
— that since your love affair with Madeline, you 
have changed toward me in many things. You know 
how deeply I regret her answer to you, and that she 
should have caused you pain. The child is young, 
thoughtless, too prodigal of her beauty ; but even 
you, cold and analytical as you are toward her sex, 


32 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


once saw in her something worthy of admiration — 
yes, of love.” 

" Why will you always speak in a past tense ? ” 
demanded Reinhardt, rising and pacing up and down 
his study. " Is it so long ago since I knelt at your 
daughter’s feet, that time has revolutionized my 
feelings ? ” 

He was, he assured himself, quite cool and col- 
lected. The facts, however, would hardly bear out 
his reasoning : since the wine he had drunk, while 
serving to elevate his spirits, had loosened his 
tongue and filled his head with thoughts of Madeline. 

"Am I such an ugly fellow, Maitland,” he asked 
with a sudden change of mood, "as to inspire a 
woman with dread at the thought of marrying me ? w 

The negative of this was only too plain. Clifford 
Reinhardt was a handsome man, whose fine face and 
figure, as he stood on the steps of his favorite 
club some pleasant afternoon — listlessly watching 
the throng — would cause him to be noticed among 
a score of comely men. 

In physique he inherited much from his Knicker- 
bocker ancestors, and was of compact build without 
inclining to obesity ; with a fair, soft, curling beard, 
and clear, honest grey eyes. A shrewd financier, 
he was concerned in the boldest operations of the 
day; and the knowledge thus gained of men, so 
essential to a successful broker, had perhaps made 
him over suspicious. He was in his fortieth year ; 
and, strange to say, his ten years of club life and 
the wear and tear of business had imparted no ap- 
pearance of age beyond that limit. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


33 


Yet in the person of the quiet gentleman who, 
twice a week, as regular as the weeks came round, 
drove his prancing bays down Beacon Hill and drew 
rein before the modest but substantial home of the 
Maitlands, centered the matrimonial aspirations of a 
score of aristocratic mamas with marriageable daugh- 
ters. 

But that was before he had proposed to Madeline ; 
when hope shed a luminous light over his pathway, 
and the prize seemed his for the asking. Now there 
was an end to those delightful rides together out 
into the crisp, invigorating country air, laden with 
sweet-smelling perfumes ; for now there was no 
longer doubt that Madeline did not regard him as a 
lover, and he, like a sensible man, had begun to 
avoid the fair coquette and leave the field to younger 
men. 

" Your question is well put,” said Maitland’in re- 
ply to the broker’s query. " It was not lack of per- 
sonal address, nor aught becoming the character of 
a gentleman, that influenced Madeline’s choice. For 
you she cherishes a warm regard. But the disparity 
of years, as you have yourself confessed, often 
weighs heavily with a woman in matters of the heart. 
A little patience, some show of interest in her still, 
may cause her to reflect — to see the mistake she has 
made.” 

"You think so?” asked Reinhardt nervously. 
"But no; you mistake sympathy for something 
more, I fear.” 

" And yet pity, the proverb tells us, is akin to 
love. Once you become the object of a woman’s 


34 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


commiseration, there are many little avenues open to 
her heart, either of which may serve to reach the 
citadel of her affections. He is a faint-hearted sol- 
dier who will not prolong the siege. ” 

"True, true,” said Reinhardt reflectively. "All 
is fair, they say* in love and war. But I lack the 
fire of youth ; my life has run too long in the old 
grooves to play the boy at forty. So, as your visit 
tome is one of business import, we’ll' dismiss the 
theme into which we have unconsciously drifted, and 
turn our attention to weightier matters.” 

This was said with charming nonchalance, but it 
did not deceive Gregory Maitland. He had accom- 
plished his object in bringing Madeline so promi- 
nently into the conversation, and was content to 
await developments. The seed had not fallen on 
barren ground ; but pride was antagonistic to its 
growth. 

"To resume,” continued Reinhardt, "you want 
money, but can offer no adequate security. You 
will, perhaps, urge the claims of friendship ; and I, 
acting in strict business integrity, must protect the 
interests of other people. Have I correctly outlined 
the case ? ” 

"You seem to have done so to your own satisfac- 
tion, at least. But in so far as this you are right : 
I do want money — much of it. Thirty thousand 
dollars ! ” 

"Which, added to the amount now on our books, 
and partially secured by mortgage, makes” 

"Fifty thousand,” said Maitland quietly, as if the 
sum need excite no surprise. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


35 


"And if you do not get it — what then?” 

"Beggary for me and mine,” the merchant said 
bitterly. "The crash will come and all will soon be 
over. My property is mortgaged for its value — 
so there is nothing. The inevitable is easily fore- 
seen. My family will be turned out of doors, while 
I, broken in purse and spirit, can provide but poor 
shelter for them elsewhere.” 

"You paint a dismal picture,” said Reinhardt with 
a shudder. 

"Dismal it may be — but not overdrawn!” said 
Maitland bitterly. “ My eye has too nice a percep- 
tion of poverty’s outlines to fail in the delineation. 
Think of the sleepless nights allotted to a man who 
sees that cursed word, Failure, written on every- 
thing about him, and ask yourself if it can be other- 
wise ! For me there is no need of a Daniel to read 
the handwriting on the wall. I am a Belshazzar who 
can interpret the signs.” 

"Maitland, I am shocked ! You speak of this thing 
as it were inevitable ; and, also, as if you little cared 
how soon the blow shall fall.” 

“ Why should I care ? Anything — beggary even 
— is better than this mental torture.” 

But these hopes of yours — the successful issue 
of your ventures in South America — are they no 
longer tenable ? ” 

“If I had money, who can tell what new life 
might be infused into that languishing enterprise ? ” 

A period of silence fell upon the two men, in 
which each surveyed the other with puzzled expres- 
sion. Reinhardt was visibly affected by Maitland’s 
3 


36 


.SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


candid disclosure of his private affairs. If the mer- 
chant would only come to a point — say something 
indicative of his motive in paying him the visit — 
he felt that an understanding might be arrived at to 
their mutual interest. The outcome of the inter- 
view, he fondly imagined, was to make secure his 
claim upon the hand of Madeline, if in so doing he 
was forced to stoop from his high position to gain an 
advantage by unfair means. 

It was with a sort of vague knowledge that if he 
could inveigle Maitland into a transaction of a purely 
personal character, and lay him under a stress of 
obligation to himself, the influence of the father 
might have a salutary effect upon the daughter, that 
he had craftily maneuvered with his colleagues to 
withhold the firm’s assistance from the merchant. 
So far his machinations had succeeded. It only re- 
mained for him to play his cards with discriminating 
judgment, and force the other to an avowal of his 
real intentions. 

“And if through me this calamity is averted,” — 
it is Reinhardt speaking — " what is to be my re- 
ward ? ” 

“ Ask what you will that is within my power to 
grant.” 

“ I prefer that you should take the initiative in 
this matter,” said the broker quietly. He had again 
seated himself opposite his visitor, and was drum- 
ming idly with his shapely white fingers upon the 
table, meanwhile reflectively studying the varying 
effects wrought by the play of light upon the ruby 
fluid in the decanter. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


37 


“I come to you — who have ever been a welcome 
aspirant for her hand — and ask that, for the sake of 
the old days, you will intervene your influence at 
the bank, and not let the thoughtless act of a girl 
who scarcely knew her own heart impel you to a 
course unworthy a generous nature.” 

44 It is well you approach me in Madeline’s behalf,” 
replied Reinhardt with much show of excitement. 

44 I foresaw your answer,” his visitor said. 44 But 
there is more to say. You love her still, Clifford. 
Ah ! start and color like a boy in his teens. That 
tell-tale flush is mightier than words ! At forty a 
man does not regard a woman with ethereal passion ; 
it grows upon him like a fever ; it creeps into every 
fibre of his being.” 

44 Have you come to taunt me with my weakness ? ” 
Reinhardt cried, his eyes flashing with newly kindled 
emotion. 4 4 Is it not enough that I love your 
daughter passionately — hopelessly — without hav- 
ing to listen to an arraignment of my folly ? ” 

44 Nonsense, Clifford,” said the merchant sooth- 

ing’y- 

44 You are excited, and misconstrue my words. Now 
listen to reason, and you will learn that your love is 
not utterly hopeless. If it shall transpire that I 
have come to you with the assurance of this happi- 
ness you desire” — he leaned across the table and 
looked the banker straight in the eye — 4 4 have you 
the courage to grapple with an unpleasant duty — the 
subjugation of a woman’s will to your own?” 

It was out at last — the question that must inev- 
itably come — and Reinhardt felt that he had gained 


38 


SAVED BY THE SWOBD. 


the mastery. After all, he reasoned, a man’s hap- 
piness is paramount to superficial conventionalities. 

“I have the courage of a man who would risk 
anything — everything — for the woman he loves ! ” 

“Then let us understand each other, and have 
done with dissimulation. You believe, as I do, that 
Madeline is not averse to marriage viewed in its 
social light, and regards you in a not unfriendly 
way. What, then, with my help, is to come between 
you and your desires ? ” 

“ That Cuban student, possibly, with his twang- 
ing guitar, and rich, musical voice.” 

“ What, Fernandez ? Pshaw ! He is no more to 
her than the others.” 

“ But he is a fascinating fellow, nevertheless, with 
dreamy, dark eyes and engaging manners.” 

“ Juan is a typical child of the palm island — gay, 
courteous, fond of life, an agreeable person to culti- 
vate — and though an ardent lover of Cuban liberty, 
he has all the courtliness of his Spanish sire, with a 
certain nobleness of character I cannot but admire.” 

“Have you quite exhausted the fine qualities of 
this Cuban?” was the broker’s sneering remark. 

“ But we have nothing to fear from Fernandez. 
He sings very cleverly, and plays his guitar like a 
troubadour ; and since he moves in good society, 
my daughter cannot be severely criticized for her in- 
terest in him. Our women, you know, are apt to 
become romantic over these foreign fellows.” 

“Yes — and to their sorrow, as many unhappy 
marriages attest. But you spoke of your help in 
winning Madeline for my wife. Perhaps you have 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


39 


already formulated a plan of action ; if so, will you 
kindly enlighten me ? ” 

“ On my return,” replied the merchant, “Made- 
line must be told the truth. I will say to her that 
you have, through me, renewed your offer of mar- 
riage at a time when other friends stand ready to 
desert us ; that you are patient in your love, and 
content to develop the latent affection she is capa- 
ble of, so long as the protecting influence of your 
name is thrown about her. In short, that by be- 
coming your wife, she will make secure not only the 
happiness of herself, but that of her parents.” 

“ And if she refuses? ” Reinhardt asks in a cold, 
impassive voice. 

“ Ah, but she will not refuse ! ” is the reply. 
“Trust me, Clifford, in all that I have said. I, as 
her father, pledge my word for that.” 

“ I am glad you are so sanguine, for if Madeline 
can thus easily surrender herself to me, her feelings 
toward me must be such as to give a hope of win- 
ning not only her hand alone, but her heart as well ! 
Say what you have to say to Madeline at once — the 
sooner the better. I will call on her this evening 
and renew my offer in person. On her answer 
depends — you know what is in my mind.” 

After the merchant’s departure, Reinhardt sat a 
long time reviewing the subject of their interview. 
It was not without a twinge of conscience that he 
succeeded in convincing himself the part he was play- 
ing was not an utterly villainous one. And so long 
did it take him to reach this conclusion that the 
purple shadows of twilight were falling — stealing 


40 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


into his study in troops of dusky forms — when he 
aroused himself to the lateness of the hour. 

In the meantime a painful scene was being enacted 
between the merchant, Madeline and her mother, 
since it was not deemed best to acquaint the younger 
children with the misfortune that threatened to 
overtake the family. Time enough for that, the 
father thought, when the ugly truth can be no longer 
kept from them. But Madeline, unhappily, could 
not be spared a recital of the case, made all the 
more harrowing by the father’s anxiety to impress 
her with the hopelessness of the situation, and the 
blow fell upon her young life with crushing force. 
Reared in luxury, accustomed to the flattery of those 
around her, and ignorant as a babe of the world’s 
rough manners, it is no wonder she shrank from the 
thought of going out into its toiling millions to fight 
her way. 

In fancy she could see herself — a poorly-paid 
shopgirl, dressed in the humble habiliments of labor 
— hurrying along in the early morning, a mere atom 
in the great stream of humanity that flows through 
the main artery of the bustling, work-a-day city. 
Often she had gone for an early canter on her pretty 
Dapple, riding till the wind and excitement together 
brought the roses to her cheeks and a brilliant 
sparkle to her dark eyes, when the workers in the 
human hive were spreading themselves over the vast 
area allotted to trade and its allied arts. At such 
times she would ride slowly along, if there were not 
a dangerous crush of vehicles to impede her pro- 
gress, and contemplate the faces in that hurrying 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


41 


throng. Pretty faces there were, too — but many 
were pale and careworn. It was a heterogenous 
mass, of mixed nationality, that passed her by — 
casting admiring, and often envious, glances at the 
beautiful aristocrat who rode her horse in such 
queenly style, but who regarded them with a kindly 
and even sympathetic look. And in truth, Made- 
line had a generous pity for them. Not that she 
felt the need of letting her womanly sympathies go 
out to the dapper young fellows who ogled her from 
the cars, for their seeming rudeness implied a sense 
of their own importance ; but there were others — 
weak, puny girls, and hard-worked, broken-down 
heads of families — for whom she entertained a wish 
that life had come in kinder guise. 

"It is for your sake, papa,” she said, at length, 
caressing Gregory Maitland’s bowed head with lov- 
ing touch, " that I shed these tears. You who have 
done so much to make me happy. But surely our 
friends will not forsake us ! Or, at least, you will 
not be too proud to accept their assistance ? ” 

"Ah ! my darling, you do not realize how easily 
even friendship gives way before these things. One 
by one, my hopes have left me within the week, till 
now there seems but a solitary friend who lets me 
lean upon him.” 

"And that is — who?” asks the girl excitedly. 

"Clifford Reinhardt, the man who once did you 
the honor to offer himself in marriage.” 

"Dear, good Mr. Reinhardt,” she murmurs, not 
referring to that part of her father’s answer upon 
which he laid the most stress — namely, the former 


42 


SAVED BY THE SWOKD. 


matrimonial intentions of the banker. "And you 
will not refuse his generosity, papa?” 

"Could I do otherwise?” he asks, rising in well- 
simulated perturbation and looking down upon her. 
"Think of your treatment of that noble-hearted fel- 
low, Madeline ! No, I cannot accept help at his 
hands, with the memory of the wrong done him by 
a child of mine still uneffaced. Better that the 
worst should come ; and if I am driven to a desper- 
ate thing, may you, my child, forgive your unhappy 
father.” 

"Father!” cried Madeline, "you know not what 
you are saying ! Listen to what is passing in my 
mind.” 

She was wonderfully, surprisingly calm, and to 
Maitland’s view she seemed to assume the character 
of mature womanhood, with keen, natural instincts, 
alive to the necessity of sustaining the falling fort- 
unes of the family. 

" If I should go to Mr. Reinhardt,” she continued, 
" and tell him how sorry I am ; that I still like him 
as a friend ; and ask his forgiveness on my bended 
knees, — do you think he would remember the past? 
Then you could meet him differently, papa.” 

“You need not go to him, my child ; he will come 
to you — this very night, if you wish — and lay his 
fortune at your feet. Only in becoming his wife, 
Madeline, can you hope to remove the barrier that 
interposes itself between his assistance and our 
downfall. Nothing else you can say — no abject 
apology you may make — will move me from my 
avowed purpose.” 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


43 


“ But I do not love this man ! ” she cried, half in 
anger. He had expected this and was prepared for 
it. 

“And yet you do not dislike him — no woman 
could. He is worthy the most ennobling affection.” 

" Yes, I know ; he is more than worthy. But it 
all comes so suddenly — so different from what it 
was this morning, when it seemed to me that I never 
felt happier.” 

" Then think of the misery in store for us when 
we are driven from this home — beggars! Be a 
woman, Madeline ! for the hour has come when you 
can show your loyalty to a father’s interests, and 
prove that the blood of a Maitland courses through 
your veins ! ” 

" Father!” Madeline arose from a sitting posture 
on a low, plush-covered ottoman by the window, 
and turned the magnetic influence of her dark eyes 
upon Gregory Maitland’s face. He quailed before 
that scrutinizing gaze. And well he might ; for, 
like the lightning glance of a lean, lank Cassius, it 
seemed to look quite through the deeds of men. It 
was like some metamorphosis — this sudden transi- 
tion from a tear-bedight, passive-minded girl, to a 
passionate, hard-featured woman, who showed a 
dangerous inclination to probe matters to their ulti- 
mate depths. 

"Is Clifford Reinhardt coining here to-night?” 

"Yes; that is, I expect him,” was her father’s 
answer. 

"To take advantage of our trouble, and urge me 
to marry him for his money?” she continued, with a 
scornful curl of her lip. 


44 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


"As a friend, Madeline,” the merchant interposed, 
"who takes the only honorable means in his power 
to succor me in my great need.” 

" Are you sure of this ? ” She was growing incred- 
ulous, her father noticed. He must be decisive in 
his dissemblance. 

"Quite sure, my child. No entreaties will move 
me from my purpose, not to accept a loan from him 
while you remain obdurate to his wishes. But the 
subject gives you pain, and we will not discuss it 
further now. You had better go to your room, my 
dear, and compose yourself, while I talk over affairs 
with your mother. When Clifford comes, and, like 
the noble fellow that he is, offers to confer happiness 
and honor upon you, I trust you will not let him 
plead in vain ; for then I shall know you do leave 
your father to his fate.” 

Gravely, lovingly, he conducted her to the heavy 
balustered, winding staircase, and watched her till 
she had passed along the corridor to her room. A 
sigh — deep-drawn and prophetic of a parent’s love 
— escaped his lips. 

"Ah, poor little Madge ! The first real sorrow of 
your life has come. God forgive me, if I am doing 
you a wrong ; but Reinhardt has me in his power, 
and } r our beauty alone can loosen his purse-strings. 
After all it is best. You will be rich, loved — happy 
in the end. What does a coquette know of love ? 
Bah ! nothing ! ” 

Thus soliloquizing, Maitland sought his wife again, 
while Madeline sobbed bitterly in her room — a prey 
to the most conflicting, tortuous emotions, that can 
mock a woman’s heart. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


45 


An hour later, as she stole out into her little gar- 
den, where the air was fragrant with the breath of 
roses, and the subtle, penetrating odors of mignon- 
ette and violets, with the stronger, but no less agree- 
able, perfume of the syringa, diffused themselves 
abroad upon a cool westerly wind, one ignorant of 
what had taken place could find no trace of sorrow 
or suffering upon her countenance. It was the calm 
that succeeds a tempest ; when the winds die out, 
and the clouds are scattered ; and peace, like a 
storm-beaten bird, sinks down upon the great ex- 
panse of stillness. 

True to his word, Clifford Reinhardt called on the 
Maitlands early after tea. He looked flushed and 
excited, and perhaps had taken more wine than was 
his wont ; but he was the same polished, handsome 
gentleman as ever, and Madeline received him with 
much of the old warmth of friendship. Yet there 
was a certain strange air of self-possessed, even 
independent bearing, that puzzled him sadly to com- 
prehend. 

"She is no longer a bright, impulsive girl,” he 
thought ; "but a woman — and endowed with all the 
attributes of her sex. I had expected to find her in 
tears. Then it would be easier to say what even 
now trembles on my lips. But to me it augurs 
well ; she will listen to my suit, because she realizes 
her father’s dependence on my help.” 

lie was, therefore, not wholly unprepared for her 
answer when, after a season of polite conversation, 
leading up to the one subject in the mind of himself 
and the family, Madeline calmly delivered herself of 


46 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


this speech, with none of that maidenly coyness and 
reserve associated with the thought of a woman 
yielding willing acquiescence to a lover’s wishes : 

“I will be your wife, Clifford Reinhardt, since 
you have twice honored me with a choice. But I 
do not love you as I wish I could. This is my 
answer, and, in making it, I feel it is due you to 
know the truth.” 

A strange reply, surely. But, with all the crafti- 
ness of a Richard, he might exclaim: “Was ever 
woman in such humor wooed ; was ever woman in 
such humor won ? ” It was enough for him that the 
beautiful girl who laid her hand in his, in token of 
their betrothal, did not recoil from him as from 
some monster in human form. He knew he had 
taken a desperate step, and was equally culpable 
with his prospective father-in-law in the matter of 
conspiring to gain an unwilling bride. But the con- 
sciousness of victory elated him to such a degree, 
that he regarded himself as no worse than a clever 
strategist, who had “ grasped the skirts of happy 
chance,” and was content to worship his idol of 
stone, till, like Pygmalion calling on the gods for 
happiness, the roseate flush of love should animate 
the marble form with the warmth of a reciprocal 
passion. 

“Madeline,” he gravely replied, “such love as 
mine can indeed be patient. I am content to know, 
that in consenting to marry me there are no attach- 
ments that bind you to another. By and by, when 
our lives shall have one and the same meaning, God 
grant that the memory of this hour — when I take 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


47 


you to my heart with those cruel words upon your 
lips — be forgotten by us both, or remembered only 
as some unpleasant dream.” 

Suffice it to say that Madeline gave her consent 
to an early marriage, and a month from the day 
when Gregory Maitland sealed the compact with the 
broker on Beacon Hill, she entered the society of 
that world by itself, its acknowledged queen in 
brilliancy of beauty, and the peer of all in wealth 
and social distinction. 

Bravely, proudly, had she redeemed her pledge ; 
and few were the wiser that it involved so much. 
Only her father’s impatient creditors, when their 
claims against him were promptly paid from some 
mysterious source, guessed anything approaching 
the unalterable truth. 

But even as Keinhardt passed from the altar with 
his beautiful girl-wife leaning upon his arm, and the 
music of a joyous wedding march pealing about his 
ears, jealousy pointed a warning finger at some 
apprehensive danger lingering near. He felt his 
wife start involuntarily as her eyes met those of one 
who purposely loitered in the columned aisle, and 
had watched the ceremony with painful yet cynical 
interest. Surely he had seen that maliciously hand- 
some countenance before. Yes, there was no mis- 
taking the Andalusian beauty of those dreamy, dark 
eyes. It was the face of Juan the student. 


CHAPTER III. 


“From ocean’s bosom, white and thin, 

The mists come slowly rolling in ; 

While yonder slender coast light, set 
Within its wave-washed minaret. 

Half-quenched, a beamless star and pale, 

Shines dimly through its cloudy veil.” 

— Whittier. 



WO years later, lacking 
a few short weeks, Juan 
Fernandez stood upon the 
deck of a fog enshrouded 
steamer bound into Bos- 
ton from his native land. 
It was early morning, 
with a cold, disagreeable 
nd blowing in from the 
and the change from the 
currents of the Gulf Stream 
shiver over the two passen- 
gers who huddled together under 
the lee of the pilot-house for a glimpse of the city. 

M I can’t see anything for the beastly fog, you 
know ! ” roared a portly, good-natured Britisher in 
the Cuban’s ear, making a trumpet of his hands, the 
better to drown the steady swish of the sea and the 
noise of the machinery. “ It’s the only thing that 
reminds me of London since I left ’ome.” 

“True, seiior,” replied the Cuban. “It is very 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


49 


foggy ; when we finish our cigars, we had better go 
into the cabin.” 

“ ’Ave it your own way, since you’ve been ’ere 
before, you know. Let’s see — you told me, didn’t 
you, that you had been to college somewhere in 
America ? ” 

"I graduated from Harvard, senor.” 

"Bless me! did you, though? That’s ’ow you 
speak such blasted good Hinglish ; and if you didn’t 
call me senor so much, you’d pass for a clever 
Yankee.” 

The Englishman turned out to be a jolly compan- 
ion during the voyage, and being happily exempt 
from sea-sickness, his good natured raillery had a 
salutary effect upon those not so fortunate in this 
respect. Since the day the Storm King steamed 
away from Havana, leaving in the distance Moro 
Castle and its grim sovereignty, he and Juan Fer- 
nandez had spent much of the time together — 
generally in the gentlemen’s cabin smoking and play- 
ing cards, as this seemed to be the usual means of 
relieving the tedium of life on shipboard. Some- 
times, when importuned by the captain’s little 
daughter, Juan would play a few preliminary notes 
on his guitar. Then, as the passengers crowded 
around him, he would favor them with a song in the 
pure Castilian tongue. But often his rich baritone 
was heard in the English airs he had learned at Har- 
vard. These pleased his cockney friend best, and 
as the passenger list was largely made up of those 
who used the Saxon mode of speech — since beside 
Fernandez there were only some half-dozen Cuban 


50 


J3AVED BY THE SWORD. 


refugees aboard the steamer — he never failed of an 
appreciative audience at such times. 

So with these seasons of musical diversion, the 
droll stories told by the Englishman — who signed 
himself Thomas Higgleton, brewer, of London — 
and the ingenious methods formulated by Hoyle for 
the dissipation of time, the voyage from Havana was 
rendered comparatively short, and, despite a day or 
two of rough weather, was one of pleasure to the 
Storm King’s passengers. 

The fragrant weeds being nearly smoked out, Hig- 
gleton and his companion tossed their cigars over- 
board and prepared to leave the deck. A heavy sea 
was running, and the steamer rolled in a manner 
that made it difficult to keep one’s feet without hold- 
ing on to some immovable object. Suddenly a lurch 
to leeward threw the Englishman violently forward 
and against the rail. 

Almost simultaneously Fernandez dealt a powerful 
blow upon the arm of a man who, with the agility 
of a tiger, darted toward the prostrate Englishman 
with a gleaming knife in his hand. 

“Coward!” cried the Cuban as the knife was 
sent whizzing through the air. 

The assailant was a sinister-looking fellow, and 
evidently a Spaniard. He, with a companion of the 
same nationality, had followed the Englishman on deck 
and had been awaiting some such favorable opportu- 
nity to kill him, as now there was no one else on 
the scene but the young Cuban. 

The other Spaniard, seeing Juan’s interference, 
drew a knife and made a murderous lunge full at his 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


51 


heart. To step aside, and cleverly interpose his 
foot so that the man stumbled, was the work of an 
instant, but it saved the Cuban’s life. Such was the 
momentum of the villain’s body, since he was of 
sturdy physique, that he continued headlong with 
the weapon in his hand. 

There was a foreign oath — a feeble scream — 
and the knife was sheathed in a human heart ! 

The hilling man, unable to avert the tragedy, had 
plunged the blade meant for Fernandez into the 
bosom of his accomplice — the one who had endeav- 
ored to perform a similar office for the Englishman. 
“Vengeance is mine,” saith the Lord. Surely 
retribution never came on swifter wings, nor with 
more awfulness of purpose, than to him whose life- 
blood dyed the Storm King’s deck. 

"Providence is just ! ” was Higgleton’s only com- 
ment, pointing to the murderer, as the officers of the 
steamer, aware that a scuffle was going on, came 
hurriedly forward. 

The assassin, for a moment, seemed turned to 
stone. His eyes were fixed intently on those glassy 
orbs staring at him in death ! What were his 
thoughts, God alone can tell. Human agencies are 
all too weak to portray the feelings of such as he. To 
have murdered in cold blood the Englishman or Fer- 
nandez, it is easy to believe, would cost him no com- 
punction ; but to his superstitious soul, there must 
have been something preternatural in the accident 
which turned his hand against his confederate in 
crime. A shudder convulsed his frame as, stooping 
4 


52 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


over the body, he uttered a low cry in Spanish and 
devoutly made the sign of the cross. 

“Ay de mi! He matado d mi hermano” 

‘ ‘ He says he has killed his brother ! ” the Cuban 
interpreted. 

Suddenly arousing himself, and seeing that he was 
confronted by numerous witnesses of his guilt, and 
realizing that it was useless to battle for his liberty, 
the quivering wretch sprang over the rail and disap- 
peared in the sea. 

“No need of a jury for him,” said the captain of 
the Storm King, peering through the fog, " for he’ll 
never live in this sea to be tried for his crime. He’s 
far astern by this time, and bound for Davy Jones !” 

Yet the officer at the wheel promptly rang his bell, 
the ponderous engines were reversed, and the steamer 
gradually slowed up, coming to a standstill about a 
half-a-mile from the spot where the Spaniard had 
leaped overboard. A boat was manned and low- 
ered into the rough water of the outer harbor, but 
after a brief search it was returned and hoisted again 
to the davits — the crew, of course, having no tidings 
of the man for whom they had been searching. 

The Storm King, with its ghastly burden becoming 
momentarily more distinct as the fog lifted and the 
morning light grew stronger, steamed cautiously 
into the harbor and headed for the dock. 

It was indeed a resistless current that bore the 
desperate fratricide away from the steamer. Struggle 
as he might, strong swimmer that he was, the great 
rush of waters bore him down again and again. 

Life was dearer now to this wretch, whose hands 


SAVED B V THE SWORD. 


53 


were imbrued with a brother’s blood, than it had 
ever been before. He had thrown himself into the 
sea, not with the desire to find therein a grave, but 
because it offered at least one chance of saving him 
from the hangman’s noose. The chances, however, 
seemed to be that he would drown like a rat in sight 
of land. 

A wave more* boisterous than its fellows — that 
leaped and danced in its wild carousal among the 
billows — was bearing down upon him with over- 
whelming force. He saw it coming, and, like an 
experienced surf bather, tried to avoid it by a quick, 
sidelong dive, but in consequence of the buffeting 
he had undergone, he was physically weak and un- 
able to cope with this new danger. Even while 
nerving himself for the plunge the wave broke 
over him, and he fell back like some insensate object 
upon the water, at the complete mercy of the cur- 
rents that prevailed along the frowning coast. 

Brief as was the period before insensibility inter- 
vened, it was of sufficient duration for him to realize 
that he was drowning, and the scenes and events of 
years passed in kaleidoscopic array before his tor- 
tured vision. Brilliant flashes of strange, weirdly- 
colored light, scintillated about him and illumined 
the deep recesses of ocean, rendering doubly fearful 
the horrors that awaited him below. 

It seems to be a peculiar phase of death by drown- 
ing, and one testified to by people who have nar- 
rowly escaped that fate, that the mind revisits the 
remotest scenes occurring in the childish epoch ; and 
before the soul takes its flight it mingles again, as it 


54 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


were, with the dear ones who watched its growth 
from infancy. 

So with the Spaniard. The sunny, vine-clad hills 
of Spain ; his mother’s face, lit by that sweet radi- 
ance which only the brow of a mother discloses ; the 
mountaineer’s song, as he drove his flocks at sun- 
down along some craggy, winding foot-path ; his 
own happy, careless boyhood, with its joys and as- 
pirations : all these arose before him in that delirium 
of death as he drifted into unconsciousness. 

But at the last, dragginghim down, down, down — 
like some vengeful Nemesis sent from ocean’s caves 
— the phantom of his murdered brother, ghastly pale 
and bleeding as he had seen him last, clutched his 
throat and bore him company. 

****** 

A low, deeply-laden sail boat, with a rough-look- 
ing, sleepy-eyed man at the oars to make additional 
headway against the tide, now claims the reader’s 
attention. At daybreak it had put out from a small 
island near the coast, and by dint of persistent 
tacking, so that the dingy sail might get the benefit 
of the wind, and the sleepy-eyed man’s exertions 
with the oars, the boat had made fair progress up to 
this time. 

The tiller was held by one whom the man at the 
oars frequently addressed as Tom, a younger, smooth- 
faced individual, whose general character might not 
inaptly be summed up as fat and lazy without flying 
wide of the mark. 

There was also a third person, a mere boy, enjoy- 
ing the luxury of a nap, lying wrapped in an old sail 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


55 


in the bow of the boat, while his companions kept a 
sleepy but watchful eye for the police tug, should it 
be prowling through the fog. 

One accustomed to the methods of the light- 
fingered fraternity would at once class this craft and 
its occupants in the category of thieves. And aside 
from the fact they were returning from a thieving 
cruise among vessels anchored in the harbor, and 
had been driven by the police to take a roundabout 
course and spend most of the night on the island 
spoken of above, there was no especial interest at- 
taching itself to the boat or those within it. 

" Keep yer eye open for the p’lice, Tom, my boy ! ” 
said the rower at length, breaking a long period of 
silence. 

"I’m a-doin’ of it, dad,” replied the other, remov- 
ing his hand from his mouth only long enough to 
make answer, then hastily clapping it back again. 

“We’re havin’ a hard time of it this trip,” the 
former continued, essaying to keep up the conver- 
sation. 

"Yes,” was the monosyllabic reply. And, as be- 
fore, the hand rapidly closed over the orifice in 
Tom’s face. 

"No tellin’ when a steamer’ll run us down — the 
fog’s so heavy on the water.” 

"That’s so.” The fat youth at the tiller showed 
no encouraging signs of becoming communicative. 

"If the wind rises, we’ll get swamped and lose all 
our night’s work. And its a hard earned load, too.” 
The hand was again raised just the least bit, and 
Tom vouchsafed a mournful reply in the affirmative. 


56 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


"Or we may strike a rock, — and smash’ll go the 
boat ! ” his sire continued, casting about for other 
gloomy thoughts. 

" Sure,” the manipulator of the tiller managed to 
ejaculate between two rows of very firmly set teeth. 

"Take yer hand off’n yer mouth and talk like a 
man ! ” He had tired of his son’s experiment of 
talking through his teeth. "Ye’d be a fine chap to 
get shipwrecked with, wouldn’t ye, now? I’ve bin 
talking my prettiest to ye, but its no use. Ye sit 
there like a wooden Injun, and only mumble to me.” 

"Its my lungs, dad.” A feeble cough, necessita- 
ting deep inspirations on Tom’s part, was meant by 
him to lend truthful force to his words. "I’m 
afeered to breathe in this fog. I had my fortune told 
yesterday by a Gypsy, and she told me I’d be likely 
to die of consumption. I can feel the dampness 
a-crawlin’ down inside of me now. Shouldn’t won- 
der if I had a hem’rage or something, before we get 
out’n this scrape.” 

" Tom, yer a big chump ! ” said his father angrily. 
" Fortune tellin’ aint no good. You’ve got about as 
much chance of havin’ consumption as I have of 
bein’ an alderman. I’ll wake up Dandy, then. The 
kid’s got a tongue in his head, and I want to talk 
with somebody.” 

Suiting the action to the word, he aroused the 
sleeper by a vigorous touch of his foot, which he re- 
peated with increasing force until the boy, gradually 
coming to a realizing sense of the situation, sat bolt 
upright and dug his fists into his eyes in the endeavor 
to get thoroughly awake. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


57 


" Tend that sheet, yer fat idjot ! ” cried the man at 
the oars, as his son let go the sail and peered over 
the side of the boat. Simultaneously a slight shock, 
as if the craft had struck lightly on a sunken reef, 
was felt by them both. " There, now you’ve done 
it ! Struck ker-smash on a hunk o’rock.” 

Tom, unmindful of his father’s words, was grap- 
pling with some object in the water, which in its up- 
ward progress on the current had come in contact 
with the boat, and which the strong tide was bearing 
out to sea. 

It took the shape of a drowning man, till, little 
by little, as the young fellow’s brawny arms drew 
the limp figure into the boat, was disclosed the 
death-like countenance of the Spaniard, who only 
a short time before had plunged from the steamer. 

" Here’s a go, dad!” Tom had suddenly found 
his tongue and forgotten the Gypsy’s prophecy. 
" W e’s run into a dead corpse. What’ud we better 
do with him, since we’s pulled him aboard?” 

Inhuman as it may seem, the two thieves decided 
to drop the dead man into the sea, after they had 
rifled the body of all valuables. Like rude Caesars 
they exacted tribute from the waves, and were gov- 
erned by no considerations save those of self-ag- 
grandizement. 

An inventory of the Spaniard’s personal effects 
revealed no very considerable amount of booty. A 
small amount in gold, two fractional tickets in the 
Havana Lottery, a quaint silver watch, several 
pocket trinkets of no appreciable value, and a return 
ticket to Cuba, made up the list of valuables as they 
were hurriedly appraised. 


58 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


One article alone escaped their eyes : a signet 
ring, surmounted by a tiny serpent, with the name 
Alveraz del Marco engraved on the inner side of 
the band, which the man wore on the little finger of 
his right hand. This fell to the lot of the boy who 
had been asleep in the boat, and was by him adroit- 
ly slipped from the stiff, icy finger of the drowned 
man, to be quickly concealed in the capacious depths 
of his trousers pocket. And in the person of this 
young thief, as a glimpse is caught of his face under 
the fisherman’s hat, is recognized Dandy the little 
hunchback, to whom the reader has been introduced 
in the opening chapter of this story. The ring was 
noticeable because of its curious setting, and worth 
a neat sum of money, but with Dandy its intrinsic 
value was of small consequence in comparison with 
the pleasure of possessing such a bit of jewelry. 

The body was quickly rifled, since the morning 
was gradually growing lighter, and the thieves were 
in fear of being discovered. 

"I’ve thought of what to do with the body,” said 
Tom, pausing in the act of pushing the dead man 
over the side of the boat. 

" Tell it quick, then,” replied his father, looking 
around nervously. 

" Sell it to the doctors up at the hospital.” 

" What for sonny ? ” 

"For to cut up, o’course. They buys dead men 
sometimes, so’s to let the students see how they’s put 
together.” 

" Enny money in it ? ” asked the other shrewdly. 
" Its a good deal o’risk, and we may get nabbed by 
the coppers,” 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


59 


"Not if we’s careful. All we’ve got to clo is to 
cover him up in the bottom of the boat, and let 
Dandy sit on him. Nobody’ll ever know what we’ve 
got, and we can run the boat up under the wharf 
when we get in. Doctors alius pays well if they 
wants a good skeleton.” 

" All right, sonny. ’Taint our fault the man got 
drowned, and I s’pose the stoodents needs him. You 
and Dandy cover him up. He won’t ketch cold in 
the fog if he’s tucked in snug.” 

The man laughed softly at his own grim sarcasm, 
and seating himself in the stern of the boat, as the 
wind was beginning to freshen, he took his son’s 
place at the tiller while Tom and the hunchback hid 
the silent burden from view, in their haste giving the 
body many a rough thump against the boat, which 
had about the same effect as if they were endeavor- 
ing to resuscitate a person partially drowned, since 
this sort of usage caused the water to be freely ex- 
pelled from the Spaniard’s lungs. 

"Now, Dandy, we want you to sit down, and if 
anybody asks what we’ve got here, tell ’em we’re fish- 
ermen and bound into port.” The trio, by the way, 
wore the heavy oil-skin coats and sou’westers com- 
mon to fishermen, since they served as an effectual 
disguise and enabled them to carry on their calling 
with greater immunity from detection. 

"You’re a green hand in this business yet, and 
musn’t open your face without you has to.” 

" I don’t want to sit on a dead man ! ” the hunch- 
back protested whiningly. " He’ll haunt me like a 
ghost.” 


60 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


"Aw, shut up ! ” the man at the rudder interposed. 
"Don’t talk about ghosts now. He can’t hurt you, 
anyway ; and you won’t see him, all wrapped up in 
that old sail.” 

"I’ll turn his face down,” said Tom, suiting the 
action to the word. "There now,” addressing him- 
self to the hunchback, "sit down, or I’ll tan your 
hide* — ye contrary little cuss ! His eyes aint looking 
at ye now.” 

Thus intimidated into submission to their wishes, 
Dandy did as he was told, and the boat was pro- 
pelled up the bay, still enveloped in the fog that the 
wind was driving landward. 

They had not proceeded a hundred yards before a 
startling discovery was made. In the water near 
their boat was a veritable man-eating shark. This 
vulture of the sea, keen of scent and guided by 
some mysterious agency in the wake of death, could 
be seen swimming in circles only a few rods distant, 
now and then coming close to the boat, so that its 
terrible jaws, as the fish turned on its sides as if to 
seize an imaginary prey, were plainly visible to the 
frightened thieves. Its presence so near the land 
argued the correctness of sailor superstition, and 
that, emboldened by hunger, the fish had followed 
the Storm King in from the Gulf. It seemed, in- 
deed, an omen of ill luck to those who had snatched 
the Spaniard from the sea, and the elderly thief was 
emphatic in declaring that their safety lay in getting 
rid of the corpse, in which his son, after a while, 
yielded an unwilling acquiescence. 

"If the shark eats him, we aint to blame, be we 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


61 


sonny ? ” was his father’s only apology for what they 
were about to do. " So dump him over afore some- 
thing happens to us. Easy now, e-a-s-y, sonny. 
It won’t do to make a noise over it, with the tuir 

cruisin’ round in the fo<r.” 

© 

A low cry from the little hunchback, who was 
crouching in the bow of the boat, and had his eyes 
riveted on the face of the Spaniard as his compan- 
ions turned the body over, startled the others and 
drew their attention for the moment to him. 

"Hist, boy ! D’ye want us to drop you over, 
too ? ” admonished the elder Barlow. 

For answer, Dandy pointed tremblingly to the 
Spaniard’s face, in which a spasmodic twitching of 
the muscles, accompanied by a slight tremor of the 
body as the two men raised it in their arms, indi- 
cated that life was not yet extinct. The rough 
treatment administered to the Spaniard, in the en- 
deavor to stow him quickly away in the boat, had 
been the means of revivifying the poor wretch, thus 
saving him from a fate worse than drowning. 

" The man aint dead ! ” persisted the boy. " See ! 
he’s gasping for more air,” Dandy continued, as his 
companions saw unmistakable signs of life. 

"Throw him overboard, just the same ! ” was the 
heartless remark of the old man, at which Tom, who 
had produced a flask of liquor from his pocket, 
strongly demurred. 

" Dad ! ” said the young fellow, looking his parent 
straight in the eye, "you’s made a thief o’ me, and 
I’m goin’ to stick by ye. But I ain’t the right kind 
o’ stuff as what murderers is made of! I picked 


62 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


this man up, and if he’s got any life in him, which 
me and Dandy says he has, we’ll land him some- 
where and let him go, — or my name ain’t Tom 
Barlow, that’s all.” 

He busied himself over the half-drowned Span- 
iard, assisted by the little hunchback, and by a free 
use of the liquor on the Spaniard, together with per- 
sistent rolling and percussion of his body, they had 
the satisfaction of knowing they had rekindled the 
vital spark. 

An hour from this time, having successfully 
eluded the police-boat, and being no longer menaced 
by the man-eater, the thieves ran their craft in 
under a long, dark wharf on the water-front ; and 
after working the boat in and out among the slimy 
logs that supported the old structure, they reached 
a flight of steps communicating with the humble 
abode they dignified with the name of home. 

The Spaniard, meanwhile, had been freely dosed 
'with liquor and was beginning to take interest in the 
movements of his rescuers ; but up to this time, 
either from his inability to converse with them, or 
from fear of being detected for the crime committed 
on the Storm King, he had remained mute and 
motionless in the boat as they came up the harbor. 
Now, however, he aroused himself and looked 
searchingly into the faces of his captors ; for such 
indeed they were in fact as well as in name, since, 
to gratify his father’s wishes, Tom had promised to 
keep the Spaniard a prisoner in the hope of a ran- 
som from his friends. The fear that their hiding- 
place might be disclosed if they allowed him to de- 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


63 


part without restoring the booty taken from him 
was perhaps the stronger motive for keeping him 
confined until they could learn what were his inten- 
tions toward them. 

It was only when the two men, by each seizing an 
arm and pointing upward, indicated that he was to 
ascend with them to some unexplored region above, 
that he made a show of resistance. Physically he 
was weak from his buffeting in the sea, and the 
strength exerted by the thieves soon forced him up 
the steps, when he sank helpless at their feet on the 
narrow landing, and glared at them with wildly roll- 
ing eyes that bespoke a disordered brain. 

" Open the door, old woman 1 ” cried the elderly 
thief, "we’re bringin’ home a visitor this trip.” 

No one appeared in answer to this noisy summons, 
and he gave the stout, heavy-panelled door a vigor- 
ous kick, emphasizing his impatience by swearing 
softly to himself. 

"I’m coinin’, Joey dear,” a shrill feminine voice 
inside made answer. 

" Dammit ! ” responded her liege lord in return, 
" don’t I tell ye not to ' Joey-dear ’ me that way ! 
Shove back the bolts and let us git in.” 

There was a sound of heavy bolts being drawn, a 
ponderous key turned in the lock, and the door 
swung back on its hinges, disclosing the owner of the 
voice to be a short, pleasant-faced woman, much 
inclined to obesity ; in this latter respect she re- 
sembled her son Tom, and was evidently of an 
amatory temperament, if one could judge from the 
habit of interlarding her conversation with endear- 


64 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


ing epithets, which, as has already been seen, her 
husband sometimes deprecated when in a sleepy 
condition. 

" I’d just tooken down the shutters,” she said in 
apology for her delay in getting to the door, " and 
run out for a pitcher o’ beer.” 

The thieves entered, dragging the Spaniard with 
them, and the door was shut and securely fastened 
as before. 

" O ! — beer,” said Tom, catching up the foamy 
beverage and placing it to his lips. "I allers likes 
beer in the early mornin’, and the doctors say its 
good to stave off consumption,” adding, after a deep 
draught, "my lungs is miserable since I got my for- 
tune told.” 

"Maybe som’un else has poor lungs, sonny,” his 
father said by way of a gentle hint, as if suspicious 
that his need of refreshment would be forgotten. 
He gave a grunt of satisfaction when he received 
the pitcher, and on setting it down he expressed a 
desire that breakfast be prepared, adding that he 
was hungry as a camel. 

The Spaniard was then coaxed into some dry 
clothes, which Mrs. Barlow, whose rough exterior 
hid a warm heart, had obtained from the meagre 
wardrobes of her husband and son. He had become 
quite passive again, but kept up an incessant jabber- 
ing in his native tongue, which was strangely unin- 
telligible to the little group. By degrees it became 
plain to the thieves that the man was out of his 
head — the result no doubt, of his experience in the 
water. They, of course, knew nothing of him pre- 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


65 


vious to the time his apparently dead body came in 
contact with their boat, and so had no knowledge of 
the Storm King’s tragedy or that their prisoner had 
been one of its principal actors. 

A short family consultation followed, and it was 
decided that he should be confined in a room above, 
where his chances of escape or of making his pres- 
ence known to outsiders were equally improbable, 
pending a decision as to what they would do with 
him ultimately. 

The building in which the Barlows were domiciled, 
as nominal keepers of a shop for traffic in junk and 
old metal, was a rambling, dilapidated store-house 
that had passed its prosperous days and was now 
unoccupied save by the junk dealer, who added 
largely to his profits by these thieving trips among 
the wharves at night, stealing whatever could advan- 
tageously be turned into money without exciting 
suspicion. 

In these excursions, since he could go where they 
could not, the little street Arab whom the reader 
knows as Dandy was beginning to be a valuable con- 
federate, and the thieving junk dealers were fast 
initiating him into their dishonest practices. 

" You’s gettin’ old enough to earn an honest livin’, 
Dandy,” the elder Barlow would admonish him, "and 
you owes it to us to do it by hook or by crook.” 
And the boy had promised his benefactors he would 
do as they wished. 

" Besides, we’s the only folks you know anything 
about,” his foster-father invariably added, when re- 
minding him of his duties toward him. "Why, you 


66 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


was only a wee kid when your mother died, and she 
told us your dad was a soldier and got killed in the 
war. Poor thing ; she didn’t tell us her name, nor 
how she got here that stormy night.” 

And this was all Dandy ever knew of his history. 
That he was a soldier’s son, he somehow felt within 
him, was something to be proud of ; and the child 
pictured out scenes of martial splendor, and battle- 
fields where opposing armies met in strife for the 
mastery, amidst the stirring music of bugle and 
drum, until it seemed more real than imaginary to 
his young mind. If, in these flights of fancy, 
little Dandy thought he too would be a soldier some 
day, he always burst into tears when he looked 
down at his long arms and remembered that he was 
a hunchback. 


CHAPTER IV. 


“O’er the desert sands of duty, 

Eurylee, 

Hope allures to isles of beauty, 

Eurylee ! ” — Drifting Songs. 



HE Cuban and his English 
friend parted company the 
day following the Storm 
King’s arrival, after they had 
reduced to writing their ver- 
sion of the tragedy that had 
taken place, in order that all 
facts bearing upon the matter 
might be transmitted in a 
formal way to the authorities, 
and to correct some errors in 
the accounts that had reached the public 
~ 1 ‘ ear. The Englishman, however, showed 
a reluctance to talk much about the animus of his 
attempted assassination. 

"One must have enemies, you know,” he evasively 
replied when Fernandez questioned him too closely. 

"Yes, of course, senor,” the Cuban replied. "But 
you have got rid of two of them, senor. One will 
be buried to-morrow, and the other is at the bottom 
of the sea.” 

" May he not have escaped ?” asked his companion. 
"He was a strong swimmer, I have no doubt; and 

5 


68 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


the land was not far away, though we couldn’t see it 
for the fog.” 

" I think not, senor. The tide has taken him out 
to sea by this time.” 

" He was probably some cut-throat who would 
have murdered me for a guinea,” said the English- 
man in dismissing the subject. 

”1 hope, senor,” Juan replied, "you remember he 
was born in Arragon. Therefore, your enemy came 
from that country every true Cuban should bear 
arms against ! ” 

The conversation was carried on in the Cuban’s 
apartments at the hotel, where the two had gone 
directly they had left the steamer, and which 
Juan informed his friend was to be his home while 
he remained in the city. 

"Oh, well, you Cubans are pretty much all rebels,” 
laughed the old brewer softly, his keen eye noting 
the effect of his words upon his companion. " But 
that’s neither here nor there ; so don’t get angry at 
an old man’s joking. The little time I’ve spent in 
Cuba, however, convinces me the Spanish Don is a 
devilish poor ruler.” 

"Thanks, senor,” returned Juan. "I am sad when 
I think how my countrymen neglect the cause of 
freedom ! ” 

A few hours from this time they were saying good- 
bye at the train which was to bear the Englishman 
to the metropolis. They had a short while to spare 
before train-time, and it was when pacing up and 
down the platform, intently engaged in conversation, 
that the following incident occurred. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


69 


"You do not know me, senora?” The English- 
man looked up to find his friend, with hat in hand, 
Lowing low before an elegantly dressed lady, accom- 
panied by a heavily moustached gentleman whose 
bearing was singularly free from all restraint and 
plainly bespoke a club man of the day. 

"Surely, you have not forgotten J uan Fernandez ? ” 

"Sir, this is presumptuous,” was the indignant re- 
ply. "But an apology will atone, since you are 
laboring under a mistake.” 

"Pardon me,” Juan returned quickly. "I am 
mistaken, it seems.” 

With a stately courtesy the lady acknowledged the 
Cuban’s bow, and bidding good-bye to her escort of 
the luxuriant moustache, she entered a carriage in 
waiting and gave a peremptory order to the driver, 
which he obeyed by whipping his horses into a run. 

"So you were mistaken, eh?” said the English- 
man, when they had resumed their walk. 

"Yes, senor. I thought I had met the lady in 
Havana, that is all.” 

" Fernandez,” said the other with sudden interest, 
" ’ow do you know this lady is not the person you 
thought her to be ? ” 

" How do I know, senor?” laughed the Cuban. 
"Only by her failure to recognize me. Is not that 
enough ? ” 

" It’s a good reason if she isn’t playing the policy 
game ; refusing to know you because it best suits ’er 
purpose.” 

"You’re getting suspicious,” replied Juan. " Why 
should she wish to avoid me if it is she ? At home 


70 


SAVED BY THE SWOBD. 


we were good friends indeed. I was often her es- 
cort at the bull fight, senor.” 

The manner of the Englishman at this moment is 
that of a man who does not feel quite sure he has 
made a startling discovery, but nevertheless thinks 
he has inadvertently stumbled upon information 
likely to prove useful. 

"Ah! the bull fight — singular coincidence,” he 
exclaimed under his breath, having reference more 
particularly to the Cuban’s last statement. " I had 
forgotten that.” Then aloud, he asked : 

"The name of this lady? Was it” — 

" She was known in Havana as Madame Beatrice,” 
Juan replied. " She speaks your language well ; 
perhaps you knew her in England ? ” 

"Madame Beatrice,” he repeated slowly, trying to 
recall if he had heard the name. " Don’t think I 
ever ’erd tell of ’er before.” His smile of self com- 
placency, however, indicated that he knew more 
than he wished the Cuban to become cognizant of, 
and by common consent, since neither made further 
reference to the stranger, the subject was summarily 
dropped. 

The Cuban, had he stayed to watch the New York 
express roll out of Boston, might have witnessed a 
puzzling move on the part of his friend. For no 
sooner had the two men separated, while yet the 
ding-dong of the bell gave the signal for belated 
travelers to accelerate their farewells, than Hio-o-le- 
ton stepped from the train, made a hasty exchange 
of the checks for his baggage, and elbowed his way 
to a waiting-room that bore a look of desertion. He 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


71 


glanced quickly around, and, finding himself the sole 
occupant of the apartment, proceeded to make a few 
alterations in his toilet before a mirror in the farther 
end of the room. 

These consisted, first, in plucking off his iron-gray 
whiskers, which showed him to be a much younger 
man than he appeared in the beginning of our ac- 
quaintanceship ; second, in the removal of a wig 
of corresponding color, but having slight pretensions 
to baldness, and a general re-arrangement of his 
make-up so far as could be done in so public a place. 

The change seemed to please the pseudo brewer, 
as he cast a smiling glance at himself in the glass ; 
and giving his typical British head-gear a squeeze 
between his hands, that article was instantly trans- 
formed into a low-crowned hat, through a clever 
combination of springs which only a genius could 
possibly devise. 

" That is better,” he soliloquized. " If the Cuban 
knows me now, he has a memory for faces uncom- 
monly good. So, Thomas Higgleton, brewer, we 
are to sever relations for the present ; you will go 
back to the world of imaginary people till you are 
wanted in the flesh, while I — well, my plans at this 
moment are of the most shadowy nature. One thing 
however, is decided upon : I must be near Fernan- 
dez ; and to that end, as I am unacquainted with the 
town, it only remains for me to return to his hotel.” 

Those who had noticed the gouty old Englishman, 
while he was waiting for the train, would certainly 
never recognize the springy step and altered features 
of the individual who left the waiting-room ten min- 


72 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


utes later. No denizen of the melodramatic stage, 
skilful in the art of disguising one’s personality, 
could hope to accomplish the feat of " making up ” 
in a better way or in a shorter time. 

"Take me to the Parker House,” was his order to 
a cabman, "and I’ll pay you now, to save time at 
the other end.” The fare was paid out of a guinea 
tendered by the Englishman, and he put the change 
in currency loosely away in an outside pocket, little 
dreaming that a pair of covetous eyes, whose owner 
alone had seen the difference in appearance effected 
in the waiting-room, were fixed upon him as he dis- 
played his money. 

It was while drawing a glove upon his shapely 
hand, that he felt a movement in the direction of his 
pocket. Your traveled man is quick to notice what- 
ever in its nature is suspicious, and seems instinctively 
to feel the presence of pickpockets in a crowd, 
more especially if he has ever been the victim of these 
light-fingered workers. This, no doubt, accounted 
for the quickness with which the Englishman passed 
his hand down and firmly grasped the wrist of the 
person seeking to relieve him of his superfluous cash. 

"So, my lad, you were trying to rob me, eh?” 
The tone was not unkind, neither was it so severe 
as it might have been had the thief proved some 
hard-featured miscreant, instead of a cringing little 
hunchback. For it was indeed little Dandy, taking 
his first lesson in pocket picking from Tom Barlow, 
who kept his fat proportions prudently on the out- 
skirts of the crowd. 

"Yes, I was ! ” owned up the boy frankly, look- 
ing in vain for help from his evil genius. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


73 


"And what do you expect me to do with you ? ” con- 
tinued his captor, looking down pityingly into the 
childish face. 

" Give me to the cops, I s’pose,” was the resigned 
answer, "I’ll have to go to jail, won’t I, boss?” 

A few spectators had been attracted by the con- 
versation, but the throng hurrying past, eager to 
reach home and loved ones waiting to greet them 
there, were ignorant of the matter, and had no time 
to spend in idly gazing at the arrest of a street 
thief if they had known it. 

"Not if I don’t keep you here till the police come. 
But what’ll you promise me if I let you go ? ” 

" I’ll promise not to tell the cops you’re a bad 
egg,” whispered the hunchback. 

"I don’t see how you know, anyway,” laughed 
the Englishman, puzzled by the boy’s promise, 
which, instead of being a pledge to abstain from 
stealing in the future, was really an attempt, and a 
successful one, as it proved, to bring about a com- 
promise affecting the safety of both. 

"Bad eggs,” the hunchback continued, "alius 
wears whiskerses what they can take off — like 
them you’s got in your pocket ! ” 

It did not take the Englishman long to discover 
that he had been detected in his change of charac- 
ters, for the few other questions he put to the boy 
convinced him it was politic to avoid any trouble 
with him. So he charged him solemnly to say noth- 
ing about the affair, and, having pledged him to 
secrecy with a bit of money, he entered the car- 
riage and was driven rapidly away. 


74 


SAVED BY THE SWOKD. 


" 1 must cultivate that strange youth,” he mused, 
while on his way to the hotel. "He knows the 
ins-and-outs of the city, and I may need his ser- 
vices some time.” 

He registered his name as Percival Hartley, and 
was assigned to the room he had vacated only a 
short time before. This was next to the' Cuban’s 
apartment, and since he was in the house to shadow 
Juan's movements, for reasons which will appear in 
the progress of this story, no more convenient arrang- 
ment could be desired. Here he locked himself in, 
to guard against interruption by any of those well- 
meaning people, who, while scorning to be guided 
through hotel corridors by a bell-boy, are in the 
habit of getting into the wrong room by mistake, 
and gave himself up to the completion of the 
changes that were to obliterate all traces of his for- 
mer character. This did not take him long, so skill- 
ful was he in selecting from a varied wardrobe what 
would best suit his purpose, and when he descended 
to the office, in the hope of finding the Cuban chat- 
ting there as was his wont, Mr. Hartley would im- 
press the average beholder as a man of leisure, not 
over forty years of age, with a smoothly shaven, 
good-natured face, possessed of a wiry frame and 
capable of great muscular activity, whose general 
characteristics proclaimed him an Englishman. 

As the reader has doubtless reasoned out, Percival 
Hartley, acting as a spy on the Cuban, had an ob- 
ject of prime importance in view — and that was to 
gain through Juan, who he felt must know more of 
the truth than he had revealed to him at the station, 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


75 


some definite knowledge of the lady who denied the 
imputation that she was Madame Beatrice, when 
thus addressed. 

* * * ' * * * 

A fire of coals burned brightly in the Cuban’s 
room at the hotel, for it was spring weather, with 
the damp, chilly nights that are so unwelcome as 
harbingers of a backward summer. Before the fire, 
leaning his head on his hand in an attitude of reflec- 
tion and deep cogitation, Juan sat reviewing the 
scene of the attempted assassination on the Storm 
King. The face of the dead man, in all its ghastly 
paleness, and wearing a look of evil that death itself 
could not efface, was there in the bed of coals ; but 
the other, the larger and keener looking of the two 
Spaniards — the accidental slayer of his brother — 
appeared not once in the panoramic vision unfolding 
before him. 

"It is so strange,” he soliloquized, "that I can- 
not see, as 1 saw it then, the face of him who 
knew why the Englishman’s death is desired at 
home. Can he be a spy upon our little band of 
patriots ? If I had felt this suspicion on the steamer, 
the Spaniard should have killed him there ! But I 
must be patient till my return with the expedition 
that is to strike a blow for Cuba.” 

Outside the wind increased to a gale, and it was 
raining in fitful showers, while the night settled 
down dark and dismal over the city ; but the Cuban 
arose from his unhappy reflections, and after a few 
short turns up and down the room, as if struggling 
within himself to master some overpowering passion 


76 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


that vexed his soul, he made preparations for going 
out into the storm. 

"It’s a wild night for such an errand,” he mused, 
donning a heavy coat and throwing his mantle over 
his arm. “ But her sweet smile lights me through 
the storm, and my heart is strong at the thought of 
seeing her again, though she will not know that I 
am feasting my soul upon her beauty. Oh, this love 
of mine ! Will it never leave me — never let me 
forget you, Madelina?” 

As the reader knows, the Cuban was not a 
stranger in the city. He had, therefore, no diffi- 
culty, despite the darkness of the night, in making 
his way toward Beacon Hill, without recourse to 
frequent inquiries of patrolmen or the hurrying pe- 
destrians who jostled him in their haste. Once he 
met some friends of his college days, with whom he 
shook hands cordially and made an appointment for 
a future meeting ; but on the plea of pressing busi- 
ness he soon disengaged himself and kept on his 
way, till he finally got beyond reach of interrup- 
tion, and was passing beneath the shadow of the big 
dome so familiar to his eyes in other times. Here 
he turned, more mechanically than otherwise, in a 
direction he seemed to traverse with perfect ease. 

Before leaving the hotel, a message had been de- 
livered to the Cuban as he was standing in the cor- 
ridor buttoning his semi-military cloak over his 
shoulders. This he read with an evident show of 
interest and surprise, and glancing hurriedly over 
the letter a second time as if to memorize its con- 
tents, Juan made a reply to the messenger. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


77 


The note was written in the musical language of 
his native land, but a free translation of its contents 
will give the English reader an idea of its import : 

“A friend of Cuban liberty wishes an interview with 
Senor Fernandez to-night. Do not fail to come. Meet the 
bearer of this at what hour you may name, and he will con- 
duct you aright.” 

There was no signature affixed to this mysterious 
missive, but the handwriting was plainly that of a 
woman. The Cuban was somewhat puzzled at its 
receipt, since he had not as yet made known his 
presence in America to anyone interested in the 
cause so dear to him, and had not understood that 
one of his countrywomen with authority to sum- 
mons him in so peremptory a manner had expected to 
see him on his arrival. But he did not hesitate to 
tell the messenger he would meet him later and ac- 
company him to the place of rendezvous. 

"After all, it is best that I throw myself into the 
work at once,” he reasoned, " for I need the stimulus 
of excitement to keep my thoughts from other 
themes. There is much to do before the expedition 
can start for Cuba, and my unhappy country needs 
me in her service.” 

The Cuban wrapped his mantle closer, as a sudden 
blast whistled through the leafless trees, and hur- 
ried on heedless of the big drops pattering down. 
He was young, robust, impervious to the wind and 
weather, and in the supple gracefulness of his figure, 
noticeable even as he stalked through the darkness 
with bowed head, there was that quality which indi- 
cated great powers of endurance and ability to 


78 


SAVED BY THE SWOKD. 


achieve the mastery in situations where trained mus- 
cles and steady nerves count for their full worth. 
This excellence of physical development, acquired 
during his life at Harvard, was in marked contrast 
to the weak, languid bodies of the young Cubans 
one meets in Havana, and told plainly of his Ameri- 
can education and the assimilation of ideas peculiar 
to this western continent. 

“At last I see the casket that holds my jewel ! 
Juan exclaimed. “But I was a fool to come. 
There is no welcome for me here — except I can 
see the light of Madelina’s eyes ! ” 

It will be noticed, as another peculiarity of the 
Cuban’s speech, that he invariably employed a Span- 
ish termination for English names, which, to ears 
attuned to the melody of his voice, was certainly a 
not unpleasant innovation. 

The very hopelessness of his quest to-night be- 
comes apparent, when we know his object is to gain 
an interview with the beautiful Madeline of his 
youthful fancy. He sees the light within the home 
of Clifford Reinhardt, and pictures each charm of 
her who beautifies its stately halls, but is pow- 
erless to make the least of those charms his own, 
without transgressing the spirit of that decree ful- 
minated by the Hebrew law-giver down through the 
ages : “ Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife ! ” 
(Vain adjuration,, O prophet of the curling beard ! 
in these degenerate days of ours.) The street was 
well nigh deserted, and the Cuban stood immovable 
before the broker’s residence, like some pilgrim in 
silent adoration at a shrine he has journeyed far to 
look upon. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


79 


“I must see thee, Madelina ! ” is the cry of his 
heart. A sound of carriage wheels aroused the 
Cuban, and he had only time to shrink within the 
shadow of the portico before a liveried turn-out 
drew up at the curb. He waited breathlessly, hop- 
ing to see Mrs. Reinhardt alight from the vehicle, 
but in this he was disappointed. 

In the flood of light streaming from the hall, the 
Cuban recognized the lady who alighted from the 
carriage, but the discovery was of so startling a 
nature that he staggered back in amazement. 

"Madame Beatrice!” he exclaimed, "or I am 
dreaming ! What can she be doing here ? It was 
she, then, whom I saw with Senor Brawn at the 
train — and in the company of that man, too ! ” 

The carriage disappeared through the darkness, 
awaking the quiet of the hour by the rumble of its 
wheels along the court yard, and the Cuban left his 
hiding place to take up a position nearer the window, 
whence he could look into the luxuriously furnished 
room, lighted by colored chandeliers, and presenting 
to-night an inviting contrast to the scene without. 
Here he stood in lonely contemplation among the 
shadows. 

" She is not there — my Madelina,” he assured 
himself after a brief inspection of the apartment, 
which was the general living-room of the broker’s 
household. But of late the young wife seldom 
crossed its threshold, because of a coldness that had 
arisen between her and Clifford’s mother — a proud 
old dame of patrician airs — who, from the day 
Madeline succeeded to the title of mistress of this 


80 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


ancestral home, had looked with marked disfavor 
upon her son’s marriage with a penniless girl. 

There had been no open emnity between the two 
women, but Madeline felt the poignancy of each blow 
inflicted upon her by the other ; and thus, little by 
little, as the breach widened and Reinhardt ungener- 
ously sided against his wife by allowing his filial de- 
votion to blind him to his duty as a husband, she 
grew cold and indifferent to their censure or praise. 
A barrier of silence at times isolated her from those 
whose love and indulgence it was her right to expect, 
as completely as though unyielding walls of adamant 
hemmed her in. The birth of little Clifford, under 
circumstances such as these, was indeed a heaven- 
sent blessing, for it gave her something to live for — 
something to link her with the future and impart a 
new sweetness to life. 

The broker sat facing his mother and the new ar- 
rival, whom, adopting the language of the Cuban, 
we will call Madame Beatrice, while an air of elegance 
pervaded the room and invested its occupants with a 
charming personality. 

Madame Beatrice, relieved of her traveling wraps, 
had thrown herself upon a low divan at the feet of 
her hostess, and laid her pretty golden head in the 
old lady’s lap. The soft light disclosed each grace- 
ful outline of her exquisite figure in a way that did 
not escape Reinhardt’s admiring glance. Beatrice, 
like a tired, much petted child, smiled archly up into 
his face, and dropped her eyes tantalizingly as he 
passed to the smoking-room, having excused himself 
on the plea that it was already beyond the time for 
his evening cigar. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


81 


" Oh, what perverse creatures you men are ! ” 
And a little ripple of laughter followed Beatrice’s 
remark. " To prefer the solitude of your cigar to 
our society, and at a time when we are planning for 
your happiness. But, after all, a masquerade — or 
bal masque , as we Parisians call it — is not so diffi- 
cult a thing to arrange without the aid of monsieur’s 
judgment.” 

"A masquerade ! ” he said in surprise, returning 
to his mother’s side. “ I have not been honored 
with your confidence, it seems ! And Madeline — 
does she know?” 

“I did not think it necessary to consult her 
wishes, Clifford,” his mother replied. “ But you 
are at liberty to acquaint her with our plans, since I 
can see no reason why she should oppose them. 

“I will do so to-night,” he said, reflectively. 
“And believe me, madame, he continued, “ I am 
grateful to you for your interest in the matter as my 
mother’s guest. It is well to break the monotony of 
our home life, I think ; for you must be aware it is 
sometimes lonely in our little household, since we 
are a family of quiet tastes.” 

" Lonely, monsieur !” Beatrice answered mockingly. 
"Have you not your wife and the little child? Ah, 
the pretty, pretty baby. And you lonely with 
them, monsieur ! ” 

A pained look came over his face, as he replied to 

her raillery as best he could, and, excusing himself 

a second time, he retired to his smoking-room and 

Indited a cigar. 

© © 

"And you lonely with them, monsieur ! ” kept 


82 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


ringing in his ears, till the very walls seemed to echo 
Madame Beatrice’s words. " Ah, no wonder she 
asked that question,” he said to himself, " for she 
could not know.” 

He loved the solitude of this one room, where only 
the privileged few dared to break the master’s 
reverie over his cigar, and to-night with the rain 
beating against the window-pane, and the wind sigh- 
ing drearily over the hill, there was a deep sense of 
comfort and security within its walls, lit up with 
dancing light from a wood fire in the grate. 

It may be that Reinhardt was not so happy as he 
looked, sitting there alone in the dim light of his 
smoking-room, for men are strange creatures in 
moments of listlessness and ease, but visions of a 
masquerade, with its inseparable attractions of music, 
lights and flowers, swaying forms and costumes won- 
derful, are pleasant companions on a stormy night 
when one is oppressed by a lonesome feeling, such 
as he had confessed sometimes took possession of 
him. He dwelt upon the scene till his head dropped 
back among the cushions ; his cigar went out 
through sheer neglect, fell from his fingers, and was 
speedily metamorphosed into a mass of white ashes 
upon the hearth ; and amid a clash of music, and 
the sound of slippered feet in merry unison, he 
gradually lost control of his waking faculties, till 
the voices of his mother and Beatrice, heard in 
conversation on the other side of the hall, became 
a confused murmur and no longer reached his ear. 

“It is indeed kind of you, dear Madame Bea- 
trice,” old Mrs. Reinhardt was saying, “ to interest 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


33 


yourself in the matter, and I am sure the masque 
will be a brilliant affair. Ah, the glory of the old 
days is departed ! Since Clifford’s marriage I have 
mingled so little in society, it will seem odd to have 
the house filled with company, you know ; but, 
then, as you say, it is something the Reinhardts ove 
to their position.” 

“A positive duty, indeed,” replied her listener. 
Madame had by this time seated herself in the chair 
the broker had vacated, and as the two women were 
quite alone, the vivacious Beatrice took advantage of 
the fact to stretch her dainty slippers upon the fen- 
der, while one hand grasped her skirts to keep them 
from the fire. In this position her tongue ran glibly 
on about the masquerade, and she disclosed a man- 
agerial tact — a capacity for overcoming difficulties 
in the way — that completely fascinated the broker’s 
mother, whose vanity she flattered by occasionally 
yielding some point in the arrangements to a sugges- 
tion she had made. 

“And it will seem like home to you, Beatrice,” 
the old lady said at length. “ Something like your 
beautiful Paris.” 

“Ah, madame,” said Beatrice with a little sigh, 
“ those were happy days for me ; for though, as you 
already know, it was at Cannes we were married — 
I and Henri de Bouville — the sweetest memories of 
my lonely widowhood are those which recall our 
life in Paris. Ten years ago ! I was twenty then — 
and men called me pretty, madame. Bah ! the 
Frenchmen lose their heads over plump figures, 
and rosy cheeks, and sparkling eyes.” 

6 


84 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


“It would be no wonder,” her listener inter- 
rupted, “ if all women were like you.” 

“ Oh, madame, you are very kind to me ! And 
how often I will think of you when we are separated.” 

“ But that will not be very soon, Beatrice, for you 
know you have promised to stay with me a long 
while yet.” 

“Yes, if I do not go back to Cuba. You forget 
that my mission here is to kindle the fires of pa- 
triotism ! In other words, that I am an emissary 
from the revolutionary party in Havana, and am 
quietly winning the support of their friends in 
America. A rebel, you may say. Yes, madame, a 
rebel against Spanish tyranny and misgovern ment ! ” 

" Bravo ! bravo ! ” cried the old lady, clapping 
her hands. " I admire your spirit, Madame Beatrice. 
You must enroll me among your devoted followers.” 

Then the Cuban, from his post of observation 
outside the window, saw the two women leave the 
room together, and, rightly supposing the apartment 
to be deserted, he noiselessly raised the sash and 
entered. 

“Even this I do for thee, Madelina ! ” he whis- 
pered, glancing nervously around. “ Like some 
thief in the night, I risk all for the happiness of 
seeing you again. Fool ! that I am. Ay, worse 
than fool ; only a knave would enter another man’s 
house in a way like this. But if she is here, I will 
look upon her beauty ere I go.” 

Softly, with almost noiseless tread, the Cuban 
moved from room to room, in his search for Mad- 
eline, but not daring to venture up stairs, he was, of 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


85 


course, unsuccessful in his search, for Mrs. Rein- 
hardt was at that moment crooning a lullaby to her 
baby in the nurse’s room. He saw a half-opened 
door, and on tiptoe approached the room. 

Some strange influence drew him toward a figure 
before the fire — an irresistible impulse to scan the 
features of the person asleep within the room. A 
thrill of surprise shot through the Cuban’s nerves, 
when he had advanced a few steps nearer, to recog- 
nize his old enemy Clifford Reinhardt. The broker 
slept soundly ; and the Cuban stood over him, with 
folded arms, reviewing the circumstances of their 
last meeting, which had taken place at Madeline’s 
old home, the residence of Gregory Maitland. Then 
the broker had triumphed cruelly over the young 
Cuban, and, through the powerful influence Rein- 
hardt exerted over his father-in-law, Juan had been 
expelled from the family in humiliation. 

" Once you were the victor, Senor Reinhardt ! ” 
the Cuban muttered over the sleeping man, “ and I 
cringed beneath your blow.” (A fierce light shone 
in his eyes, and the hot Castilian blood leaped within 
his veins.) "But now revenge is in my grasp — if 
I choose to take it ! One strong, swift stroke of my 
arm” — (the Cuban’s hand mechanically sought 
some weapon beneath his mantle) — "and Madelina 
will wear the veil of widowhood !” The measured 
ticking of an ancient time-piece in the corner was 
not more audible to him than the beating of his own 
heart. 

" And then — ay ! and then — Holy Mother ! 
my heart is leagued with the fiends of murder ! ” 


CHAPTER Y. 


“Sweet and low, sweet and low, 

Wind of the western sea! 

Over the rolling waters go, 

Come from the dying moon and blow, 
Blow him again to me, 

While my little one, while my pretty one, 
Sleeps ! ” — Tennyson. 


ILENCE deep and oppres- 
sive — the dim firelight — 
Reinhardt’s oblivion of dan- 
ger — the hatred existing 
between the two men — fur- 
nish the outlines of a strange 
picture, the central figure of 
which is youth struggling 
with the terrible passion of 
revenge. 

" Santa Maria ! it has passed — and I thank 
thee ! ” murmured the Cuban, when the momentary 
danger that overshadowed the sleeper had gone, 
leaving him humbled in the presence of the invis- 
ible inquisitor conjured by his religious training. 

It was a most impressive spectacle, this scene 
where the beautiful belief of the Cuban’s creed, 
which teaches man that his every thought and act is 



SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


87 


known to the Virgin Mother, had saved him from 
the commission of a crime. But that the conflict 
had been hard, and attended with physical suffering, 
was attested by the beaded perspiration that stood 
out on the Cuban’s forehead like drops of dew. 
He regained his self-possession at an opportune 
moment, for just then Reinhardt moved uneasily in 
his sleep. 

w What if he should wake and find me here ? ” the 
Cuban asked himself. What, indeed, but a struggle 
between two infuriated men — and its ending in 
death, perhaps, to one or both? Juan had passed 
through one paroxysm of vengeful feeling, but his 
guardian angel, which even then hovered near with 
peace-folded wings, might not save him from periling 
his soul if he should stand face to face again with 
his successful rival. 

On the threshold of the room he paused to listen 
before attempting to reach the window through 
which he had gained entrance to the broker’s home. 
The faint, yet unmistakable rustle of a woman’s 
garments, coming nearer and nearer, reached his 
strained ear. No sound of a foot-fall on the richly 
carpeted floor indicated who the person approaching 
might be ; yet it could be no one but Madeline, he 
assured his eager soul. 

The Cuban’s suspense gave way to mingled as- 
tonishment and fear when, without a glimpse of her 
coming — only that soft, insidious, rustling sound — 
the drapery that hid another entrance to the room 
was drawn aside and he stood confronting Madame 
Beatrice, 


83 


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No matter how well trained a woman’s nerves may 
be, it is the prerogative of her sex to cry out at any 
sudden and unexpected turn of affairs. Even 
Madame Beatrice, cool-headed adventuress and 
woman of the world, could not suppress a little 
scream, so complete was her surprise to find that the 
man she stood in fear of — the man who, from his 
knowledge of her career in Havana, could by the 
slightest word, perhaps, destroy her carefully 
planned schemes — was dogging her footsteps under 
the very roof where he might do the most harm. 
She could scarcely believe her senses ; and, as if 
she were suffering from some phantasmal influence, 
the woman drew back from the uplifted drapery, 
which she still clutched nervously in her hand. 
But for the quick action of the Cuban, who saw the 
danger and effectually muffled her head beneath his 
mantle, her second outcry would have been disas- 
trous in its effect. 

"Hush! madame,” he whispered sternly, and 
forced her in his strong grasp away from the room 
where Reinhardt dreamed before the fire. "It is I, 
— Juan!” She was now passive in his arms, but 
her bosom heaved convulsively, and the Cuban felt 
her warm breath upon his cheek as he removed the 
mantle and supported her a moment upon his breast. 

" Why have you come here ? ” she demanded 
fiercely, speaking now in the Spanish tongue. 
" Could you not wait until I explained my refusal to 
recognize you this afternoon, without following me 
to this place ? ” 

"I follow you?” replied Juan. "Really,! did 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


89 


not know you had the honor of Senor Reinhardt’s 
acquaintance ! ” 

" Are you telling me the truth ; or are you only 
seeking to impose upon my fears ? ” 

" As true as that your husband was killed at 
Cannes,” said the Cuban earnestly. 

" Don’t speak that way here ! ” she interrupted 
nervously. "I wish to be known as Beatrice de 
Bouville — the widow of a French volunteer who 
was killed in the Cuban war. But tell me, 'since 
you did not know I was here, what brought you to 
this house.” 

"I came to see Madelina — Seiiora Reinhardt,” 
said Fernandez huskily, knowing it was useless to 
prevaricate, and having little to fear from Madame 
Beatrice. 

A wicked light shone in the woman’s eyes as she 
raised them to the Cuban’s face. He understood 
the meaning of her scrutiny, as well as if she had 
said in so many words : " You love Senora Made- 

lina ! ” Madame Beatrice’s courage returned now 
that she had discovered the Cuban’s secret, and 
could protect herself by this knowledge. 

" So, my brave Juan,” was her reply, "it is the 
proud senora, then, who admits you to her husband’s 
house on stormy nights, when the wind shrieks to 
drown the noise of your coming ? ” 

"No! Beatrice,” hissed the Cuban savagely. 
"Seek not to cast dishonor on the senora. She is 
innocent and pure. I alone am guilty — for I came, 
unannounced, by yonder window. See ! — look for 
yourself, if you will not believe me.” 


90 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


"Yes, the window is open,” she returned with a 
little laugh, half suppressed and nervous. " But that 
does not absolve you, my young Lothario ; neither 
does it free her from suspicion.” 

" Curse your slandering tongue !” said the Cuban. 
" You force me to a confession of my boyish passion 
for Madelina, that I may protect her honor as 
becomes a man. We were friends in my student 
days — when I was a wild, reckless fellow ; and her 
young beauty fascinated me as only innocence itself 
can fascinate one who sees vice in its gilded charac- 
ter. She was kind to me — like a sister ; and I, 
poor fool, learned to love her as I never loved 
woman before — yes, as I shall never love again ! ” 

" A romance of the heart,” interrupted Madame 
Beatrice. "I wonder what the gay senoritas of 
Havana would say to your story.” 

" Will you hear me out ? ” demanded Juan angrily. 
" There is no time to waste in words, for I must 
leave this house unseen.” 

"Very well, go on. You need to be brief, 
however.” 

"I will be brief, since there is little more to say. 
Time served only to make my love for Madelina 
more intense — more noble — more as love should 
be. But one day, when I had asked her hand in 
marriage, what did I hear? — yes and from her 
father’s lips ! — what, indeed, but that she was 
betrothed to the rich broker ! Sold to save her 
family from beggary. And me — Juan the student 
— well, I was poor then, Beatrice, and the senor 
counted his riches by thousands !” 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


91 


Madame Beatrice, who had become an interested 
listener to the story, turned suddenly pale and 
trembled with excitement. There at her feet, where 
it had fallen unperceived from beneath the Cuban’s 
mantle — its polished blade shining in the gaslight 
upon the yielding carpet in the room — lay a small 
jewelled dagger of antique design, evidently the 
handiwork of some Moorish craftsman of a barbar- 
ous age. 

"And now you would murder him ! ” she hissed in 
his ear. "In cold blood, beneath his own roof; — 
while he sleeps unconscious of danger ! ” 

" No ! no ! — Not that, madame. It was only the 
temptation of a moment — and I crushed it out. I 
came here with no thought of murder in my heart. 
I wished to speak once more with Madelina, before 
leaving her forever ! ” 

"It is false,” she cried. "Had I not come, you 
would have murdered him ! Ah, don’t I know you 
Cubans well enough for that ? See ! — there at your 
feet is the dagger which would have freed your love 
from her alliance ! Juan Fernandez, we now have 
cause to fear each other ; but you keep my secret, 
and I will keep yours ! And now, if you would be 
safe — go ! There is danger every moment you are 
here.” 

" But you do not comprehend me ! ” insisted the 
Cuban, stooping to pick up the weapon which, he 
quickly realized, had placed him in a compromising 
position and given the keen-witted adventuress an 
advantage which she was sure to seize upon. 

"Go!” she cried, pale with fear. "There is 


92 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


somebody coming, and you will be discovered ! 
You have no time to lose — and we will meet again.” 

The Cuban had barely reached the balcony, 
madame closing the window after him, when the 
broker’s mother entered the room. Seeing that her 
guest was alone, the old lady stopped somewhat in 
surprise, much as one sometimes does when fancy 
plays a trick upon the ear. 

"What, alone, Beatrice? I fancied I heard your 
voice just now, as I came down the stairs.” 

"My voice, madame? ” — Avith a roguish shrug of 
her plump shoulders. "Perhaps you did, madame. 
Do you know, since seeing the play last night, I 
can’t help some of its lines running in my head. I 
have been amusing myself in fancying that I were 
Bianca — you remember her great scene — saying 
to the wicked Count : 

“ No ! — hireling lord ; 

I scorn the offer of your glittering gold!” 

" How do you like my acting, madame ? ” A rip- 
pling laugh followed the question. "You think 
my voice tragic, my gestures natural, my passion 
wonderfully like Bianca’s. Chere amie! — you 
think everything I do is right.” 

"But really, my dear, you are a fine actress! 
Why, the Bianca of the play was not more realistic.” 

"That is indeed flattering, madame. But I had 
almost forgotten to ask for the carriage again, as I 

O O O 7 

have an appointment to keep this evening with some 
friends interested in my work for Cuba’s liberty.” 

"It is at your service, whatever the use you 
require of it, but the more readily if it will assist 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


93 


you in your labors for unhappy Cuba ; for at heart, 
I confess to you, I am in full sympathy with the 
cause you espouse.” 

"And you can be a friend to Cuba, madame. You 
have great wealth, and with gold one can buy liberty 
even ; for when we have money for soldiers, ammuni- 
tion, and the expense of another campaign, an expe- 
dition will leave these shores to join in the cry of 
' Cuba Libre /’ and wrest the sceptre from the 
Spaniards ! ” 

"Ah, yes,” old Mrs. Reinhardt returned with a 
sigh. "But I dread to lose you. If Clifford had 
only married a woman like you, things would have 
been so different. But as for that cold Madeline, 
with her soul wrapped up in her baby — who only 
married my boy for his money — why, do you know, 
Beatrice, sometimes I fancy we hate each other with 
the utmost cordiality !” 

This speech fell harshly on the ear of an involun- 
tary listener at the door. It was Madeline, come to 
seek her husband in relation to some new demand 
made by the servants, and who, seeing only the two 
women together, had drawn back at the threshold 
to avoid interrupting them. 

"Ah!” she thought, "is not this the truth? We 
are indeed learning to hate each other ! But what 
am I to do; — what can I do, that will make peace 
between us?” 

Too proud to play the eavesdropper, Madeline 
hurried away from the room and left her mother-in- 
law and Madame Beatrice to finish the conversation 
alone. Then, going in search of her husband, she 


94 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


found him still asleep before the fire, wmch now 
burned low and smoldered on the hearth. A look 
of weariness overshadowed his handsome face, and 
to his wife’s mind, a sense of isolation suggested 
itself even amid the comforts surrounding him. 
The cares of business, the worriments that attend 
the transaction of matters involving and affecting, 
through the intricate channels of finance, many 
fortunes beside his own, had harrassed him of late 
she knew ; but she was not his confidante, as were 
so many wives who sustained their husbands by 
words of sympathy and love, and she had no place 
in his thoughts at these times. This reflection, 
while it made her less happy, served to kindle a 
tenderness and pity in her heart. The true woman 
was shining through the thin veneer of society 
manners and studied indifference. 

Madeline did what she had not done since her 
marriage day at the altar — kissed her husband vol- 
untarily and unasked. It was just the lightest touch 
of her lips to his forehead, but it aroused the sleeper. 
He did not wake, though his sleep was broken, and 
his wife, in anticipation of the name that would be 
spoken, controlled her first impulse to leave his side, 
for she saw his lips move and knew he was dream- 
ing. Would it be baby’s name? she wondered, or 
her own ? But the words she heard drove her — 
maddened at the very thought of another’s usurping 
her place in his dreams — to the solitude of her own 
room, where she indulged in woman’s prerogative of 
tears, and embittered her spirit against the whole 
race of Reinhardts — excepting the tiny representa- 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


95 


tive of the name, who, struggling in the folds of a 
dainty night-gown, was then lustily resisting his 
nurse’s attempts to rock him to sleep. 

" Beatrice,” murmured the broker in his sleep, 
"a pretty, pretty name.” 

And when he awoke, a few minutes later, the 
subject of his dream — Madame Beatrice, smiling, 
wicked and beautiful — - stood before him. She was 
dressed for the street, and at that moment was 
engaged in buttoning a glove on her dainty hand. 
Seeing the broker’s surprise, and conscious of the 
ardent gaze he bestowed upon her, she made haste 
to excuse herself for intruding at this time. 

" I am so sorry, monsieur, to have disturbed your 
nap ! But I did not know you were asleep” — 
which was a falsehood — "or I should have left a 
message with your mother.” 

" It really doesn’t matter,” he replied confusedly. 
"I mean your waking me up, you know. But I 
have neglected to ask what your message is.” 

" Only that I may be late to-night, monsieur ; and 
should the storm increase during the evening, you 
had better not send the carriage before eleven. The 
poor animals, could they speak, would thank me, I 
know, for not letting them stand in the rain such a 
night as this.” 

" You are very considerate, madame.” The 
broker in the interval of conversation had stepped 
to the window and drawn the curtain aside. " It’s 
indeed an uncomfortable night for man or beast to 
be out. The wind is high, and the sky is black as 
ink — not a star to be seen anywhere ! I only 


96 


SAYED BY THE SWORD. 


regret that you find it imperative to keep an appoint- 
ment at such a time.” 

Madame Beatrice acknowledged this by a look of 
gratitude, and continued her efforts to clasp the 
glove over a plump white wrist, without avail. Then 
petulantly, with just the least pout of her lips, she 
held the hand out to Reinhardt in her pretty, 
beseeching way. 

"A small 'service, madame — a mere trifle only,” 
he said as with a courtly grace he buttoned the glove 
and received her profuse thanks. "But let it be an 
earnest of my willingness to render a greater service, 
should occasion offer.” 

The entrance of his mother cut short any further 
exchange of pleasantries. A servant announced 
that the carriage was at the door, but discreetly 
omitted to say the coachman was swearing like a 
trooper for having to take his horses out again. So 
the old lady bustled about and got Beatrice’s wraps 
for her, while Reinhardt stood by and rendered 
whatever little service he could. He was, Madame 
Beatrice assured herself, manifesting great solicitude 
for her comfort, which did not end till he had con- 
ducted her to the carriage, closing the door to keep 
out the rain, and cautioning the driver to be careful 
lest the horses stumble in the dark. 

Leaning back among the cushions, Beatrice de 
Bouville, with half-closed eyes, indulged in castle- 
building as the carriage rolled along. 

"Where is your mistress, Mary?” the broker 
asked of Madeline’s maid when he had gone to his 
wife’s room and found it deserted, "I wish to 
speak with her alone,” 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


97 


"If she isn’t in her room, then she must be with 
nurse, sir. Baby’s been fussing all the evening, I 
heard nurse say.” 

As Reinhardt neared the nurse’s room, the door 
of which stood slightly ajar, he heard Madeline 
singing the baby to sleep. The melody was only a 
sweet, simple lullaby, such as mothers love to croon ; 
but the singer’s heart was in her song. Reverently 
the broker listened to the song ; nor did he disturb 
her till its last notes had died away. His wife’s 
seeming happiness, her contentment with life and its 
surroundings, was to him a very pleasing thought. 

"Madeline,” said her husband, when he had made 
known his presence in the room, " I wish you would 
sing more to baby than you do. I love to hear you 
singing those sweet old lullabys, and besides, a 
mother’s voice is the first music a child’s unfolding 
nature should learn to love.” 

She turned to look at him with tears in her beau- 
tiful eyes. Her husband’s words had recalled the 
voice of the mother she had followed to the grave 
so soon after her marriage. 

"Yes — and I remember a voice I shall hear no 
more on earth,” she replied. " But you wished to 
speak to me.” There was now no tenderness in her 
tones, for she heard again Clifford’s admiration for a 
name he had no right to use in such a familiar way. 
"Here, nurse,” she continued, "you may take baby 
now ; he’s fast asleep.” 

A frown darkened the broker’s face. He did not 
fancy this inevitable interruption on his wife’s part 
whenever he so far forgot himself as to lapse into a 


98 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


lover’s mood. But there was no help for it, he 
thought, and so he at once changed the subject. 

"The matter uppermost in my mind,” he began, 
" is one designed for our mutual pleasure, I am led 
to believe, or else I should not depart from my 
purpose to hold aloof from society.” 

" Indeed? ” The reply was commonplace enough, 
but despite her apparent indifference, Madeline was 
wondering what it could be. "As I am not an adept 
in the art of guessing riddles, perhaps you will 
enlighten me.” 

" There is no riddle involved,” he said impatiently, 
rising and pacing slowly about the room with hands 
deep in his pockets — a habit very common to him 
when disturbed in mind. " I wish, Madeline, you 
would be sensible about these things. A man can’t 
always be expected to address his wife in the 
language of the drawing-room.” 

" Oh, well, there is scarcely any need of losing 
your temper, Mr. Reinhardt. Go on with what you 
have to say.” 

"I thought it best to tell you they — my mother 
and Madame Beatrice, you know — are planning for 
a masquerade. The details are not yet arranged, 
which will account, you see, for your not knowing it 
before. Of course your co-operation, or at least 
your indorsement of the project, will be necessary to 
its success.” 

"And why, pray? In other things I am not con- 
sulted ; your mother fairly ignores my existence, I 
may say ! How, then, does it become imperative 
that I should enter into her private arrangements ?” 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


99 


" Because you are my wife, Madeline, and mistress 
here. There must be a hostess, you know, to do 
the honors for the guests.” 

"Then, if I understand you, I am expected to 
save the masquerade from disaster by lending my 
presence and consent? ” 

" Exactly ; that is precisely what I mean. For if 
you stubbornly refuse to appear, and thus place me 
in an embarrassing position before my friends — • 
why, the whole thing must be summarily dropped. 
I have made up my mind to that point, and there 
the matter stands.” 

Madeline had turned away indifferently and 
resumed a half-finished novel. Her husband went 
to the window and stared vacantly out into the dark- 
ness. Thus a period of silence came between them, 
under cover of which both sought to collect their 
thoughts for another colloquy. Madeline, suddenly 
raising her eyes from her book, was the first to 
speak. 

"This masquerade we were discussing,” she began, 
" is it anything you really wish to occur ? ” He 
wondered at her question. 

"Yes,” he replied, "if it can be done with credit. 
People in our position, you know, are expected to 
respond in a greater or less degree to the calls of 
society. And aside from this consideration, it 
seems to me it will make our own lives happier — less 
lonely, if nothing more — if we mingle with the 
world.” 

" It is kind of you to consider my wishes before 
those of the others interested. So make your plans 

T 


100 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


with the assurance that I am in sympathy with 
them.” 

Thus the bal masque was to occur under pleas- 
anter auspices than Reinhardt had imagined, for his 
wife had not only assured him that she would assist 
in making it the success of the season ; but, indirect- 
ly, had expressed her anticipation of the enjoyment 
in store for her. 

"But I ask as a favor,” she continued, "that you 
will make no inquiries from me, or from those who 
may share my confidence, as to what costume I am 
to appear in at the masquerade.” 

" Madeline, do you really mean that I am to be 
debarred from the pleasure of knowing who, among 
the fair women in the dance, is the queen of them 
all — my wife ? ” He drew closer and took both her 
hands in his. She did not shrink from his caresses 
as she used to, but accepted them as her rightful 
homage. 

The broker’s love-making had not progressed very 
far in times past ; for, like a spectre rising between 
them, the memory of her words when she was be- 
trothed under such painful circumstances seemed to 
haunt him in spite of himself. Would she ever learn to 
love him ? Time and time again — in the solitude 
of his lonely hours ; amid the perplexing details of 
business ; at the opera, where he sat beside her and 
marked the admiring glances cast in the direction of 
his box ; in some unexpected moment, when he saw 
her flitting from store to store in search of the dain- 
tiest fabrics for baby — he had asked himself this 
question. And then at home, while she played for 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


101 


him and occasionally sang a favorite ballad, he had 
watched for the love that had been so long in coming. 

" My God ! ” he would cry out in spirit, " is my 
sin so great that Thou withholdest this happiness 
from me ! ” 

So he despaired at times ; then he was jealous of 
all men. He had quarreled bitterly with one, Fer- 
nandez the Cuban. And all because of a wife’s 
indifference, not unfaithfulness, to her husband. 

" It is my wish, Clifford,” his wife made answer, 
shyly raising her eyes to his face. " I want you to 
wonder which is I in the ball-room, and when we 
unmask perhaps we shall be side by side.” 

" Since it is your pleasure,” he answered, "I will 
humor this strange whim.” 

The broker left his wife in a comparatively happy 
state of mind, and from that time preparations for 
the ball went merrily on. There were countless 
things to be remembered ; and the advice of society 
leaders was sought and cheerfully given. The next 
day rumor of the event winged its way over the 
length and breadth of the city. Uppercrust circles 
were feverishly excited, and felt sure of an invita- 
tion ; while those who could not boast a Mayflower 
ancestry, but possessed the golden key of wealth, 
hoped to be invited through methods best known to 
themselves. And so effectively did these sycophants 
ply their arts — in public, at the theatre, wher- 
ever the Reinhardts went — that their admission to 
swelldom was well nigh assured. 

Madeline made good use of her time the next few 
days; so much so, in fact, that it was settled by 


102 


SAVED BV THE SWOED. 


one accord that she could best assume some histori- 
cal character — that of Cleopatra, for instance, or 
Mary, Queen of Scots. 1 say the selection of a 
costume was settled by one accord, since only three 
persons knew what it was to be — namely, Madeline, 
her maid, and the funny little costumer whose dingy 
shop was situated three flights up in a back street. 
To the costumer’s judgment the women yielded, and 
his choice, after deliberate thought, was in favor of 
the Egyptian beauty, since that character would give 
him scope for the display of new ideas in his art, 
and perhaps add a feather to his cap for the discom- 
fiture of a rival farther up town. 

"A Goddess of Liberty,” said the little man, while 
taking down the measurements, "wouldn’t be so bad, 
either ; but goddesses aint popular now, and of 
course yon don’t wish anything jpasse. The Egyp- 
tian costume, on the other hand, is unique ; and then 
it is something of a classic. Cleopatra, you know, 
used to float down the Nile — and — and — throw 
kisses to the crocodiles, I believe.” 

" Never mind what she used to do,” said his cus- 
tomer much amused. "It pleases me to be Cleo- 
patra, and you may make the costume at once.” 

So the matter of dress was satisfactorily arranged, 
and Madeline, for days thereafter, found herself 
involuntarily thinking how pleased Clifford would 
be when he saw her arrayed in the gorgeous robes 
of Cleopatra, for she fully intended to make herself 
known to him at the signal for unmasking. 


CHAPTER VI. 


“Whoe’er has traveled life’s dull round, 

Where’er his stages may have beeD, 

May sigh to think he still has found 
His warmest welcome at an inn.” — Shenstone. 



HE English detective, when he 
registered at the hotel, was particu- 
lar to indicate an occupation. It 
is always best, detectives say, to 
have a visible means of support 
when traveling incognito; suspicion 
is not then so easily aroused, and if 
it is it can be readily allayed by 
telling a plausible story. Now, as a matter 
of fact, the Englishman’s name was not Hart- 
ley ; neither is it likely the profession of 
"commercial traveler,” affixed in a neat hand 
after the signature, truthfully explained his presence 
in America. The character of a traveling man 
however, was so cleverly assumed, that it speedily 
brought him several acquaintances during the early 
evening. With one of these Hartley was singularly 
impressed, and although he could not tell where he 
had seen it before, the gentleman’s face had a 
strangely familiar look. Had he ever been in 
England ? No, he had never made an ocean voyage, 


104 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


this man assured him. Then, Hartley thought, it was 
useless to inquire if he were ever in Havana, since 
the general denial of any experience at sea covered 
that point as well. 

" The gentleman who has just left us, Roderick 
Brawn,” he remarked to his companion in a quiet 
game of billiards, "seems not to have traveled much 
out of his own country.” 

" So I gather from his answer to your question,” 
replied the other, too intent on making a fine shot to 
wonder at the Englishman’s remark. " But he has 
made others travel, if he hasn’t himself.” 

"Ah, indeed? Still, I don’t quite catch your 
meaning. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind explaining, 
you know.” 

"Swords and pistols,” said his friend significantly. 

"A braggadocio sort of fellow, eh?” A slight 
raising of the eyebrows followed, as the detective 
grouped the ivories with a well-chalked cue. " Yet 
he seems a very proper sort.” 

" Not a mere braggadocio, either, for he is gentle- 
manly as a rule ; and he has the reputation of 
always killing his man — that is, whenever one is 
foolhardy enough to accept a challenge.” 

"Then he is something of a duelist, it seems,” 
continued the Englishman in the most careless, dis- 
interested fashion. "I didn’t know the code was at 
all popular in your country.” 

"Not here in the North — no,” returned his 
friend, who was a well-informed young clubman of 
the day. "But Brawn, by the way, is a Southerner, 
and although he fills an eminently respectable posi- 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


105 


tion here as a fencing-master, his passionate nature 
sometimes leads him astray.” 

" So the true line of safety consists in ignoring the 
challenge of this fire-eater,” the Englishman laugh- 
ingly made answer at the conclusion of the game. 
"Thanks for your information, for I have an appoint- 
ment with him later on ; and forewarned is fore- 
armed, you know.” 

Arm in arm, the two men left the billiard room, 
and following a custom well established, they 
pledged each other’s prosperity before parting com> 
pany. Neither, however, was a munificent patron 
of the bar, and the Englishman, it was noticed, 
drank very sparingly. 

" Like Cassio,” he explained, "I have very poor 
and unhappy brains for drinking.” His companion 
smiled at the very apt quotation, and turned to greet 
a new-comer, who, throwing off his dripping mantle, 
strode shiveringly up to the bar and demanded 
brandy. 

" Hello, Juan ! ” was the cordial greeting of the 
Bostonian. "Back to America again, I see! But 
say, old fellow, what the devil ails you? Not sick 
I hope? You’re dripping wet and look as pale as a 
ghost !” 

" Only chilled, Luddington,” said the Cuban, 
draining the liquor at a gulp. " I have been out in 
the rain too long ; that is all.” 

" Hartley,” the other was saying the next instant, 
" let me introduce my friend Fernandez. Juan, this 
is Mr. Hartley, of London. Glad to have you meet, 
you know. Fernandez and I were classmates at 


106 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


Harvard, I may add, and this meeting is the first 
since he returned from Cuba.” 

" The very first, senor,” replied the Cuban, with a 
feeble attempt to appear gay. He was, in spite of 
himself, disposed to be not a little nervous, and once 
or twice he passed a hand over his brow as if in 
pain. This did not escape the notice of Hartley and 
Luddington, who in turn advised him to go to bed 
and have a doctor called. 

" I have an appointment at nine, gentlemen,” he 
replied, " and it is very near that hour. I am not 
ill ; only a little chilled by a long walk I have taken. 
Ugh ! how the wind howls across the sea to-night. 
Ah, senor, you should visit my beautiful Cuba and 
see the difference ! ” 

" Grand country out there, I’ve heard say,” 
vouchsafed the Bostonian. "I have a friend here — 
Enrique, you know — who tells me the climate of 
the island is salubrious.” 

" And you, senor,” the Cuban continued, address- 
ing himself to the Englishman, " have never visited 
my country, either?” 

"I hope to do so on my return to England, some 
time in the latter part of the summer ; we may 
have the pleasure of traveling together.” 

" It may be a little earlier, senor. Say a month 
from this night, for it will consume that time in 
getting ready for sea.” The brandy had made the 
Cuban careless of speech. "Then, senor, you will 
see a noble band leaving America for the conquest 
of Cuba. It is no secret here, for our friends are 
the Americans ! ” 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


107 


" So they are, Fernandez,” assented Luddington. 
" But your countrymen must remember Byron’s 
lines : 

Hereditary bondmen ! 

Know ye not who would be free themselves must strike the 
blow?” 

"A fine sentiment !” said Hartley quietly, " and 
uttered originally by an Englishman, I may add. 
And as for visiting Cuba, I am much inclined to go 
with you. At Havana, I suppose, one can see the 
bull-fight on a Sunday ? It must be devilish excit- 
ing, you know !” 

"The bull-fight senor,” returned Juan, through 
whose veins the brandy had diffused a genial warmth 
that was gratifying after his trying experience in the 
rain. "Oh, yes, senor. In imagination I can see 
it now ! There are the thousands of faces rising in 
tiers, like a scene in the amphitheatre at Rome. It 
is hushed and still : the multitude are waiting for 
the bull. Ah ! and here he comes dashing into the 
ring — an ugly brute, with fiery eyes, and with tail 
erect. Hark, senor ! the bugle sounds. And now 
the picadors , on horseback, madden him with their 
lances ; next come the banderilleros — nimble fellows, 
who torment the bull with their darts. Now the 
animal is wild ; he roars and paws the arena ! But 
see! — the matador, with his sword and red cloak. 
He is attacked ! — but no ; the bull misses him, and 
his sword sinks deep to the hilt — and the bull is 
dead ! ‘ Ha ! but it was grand ! ’ the people shout. 

' Bravo taro /’ hear them cry.” 

"And this is a fair description of a bull-fight, is 


108 


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it?” asked Luddington, when Juan had finished. 
"It strikes me, Fernandez, the sport is revolting.” 

"That is because you are not a Latin,” replied the 
Cuban with no show of anger toward his friend. 
" It is different with you Saxons, who love to fight 
but not to kill.” 

The party then separated, the Cuban going leis- 
urely to the door, where he bade Luddington good- 
night and waited for the appearance of the stranger 
he was to meet, while the detective hurriedly sought 
his room and attired himself for the street. 

It was already on the stroke of nine when the 
Englishman came down-stairs again, but the Cuban 
had not yet left the hotel. He was standing moodily 
under the gaslight at the street entrance, his mantle 
thrown loosely over his shoulders in anticipation of 
the messenger’s coming. 

" This time,” muttered the detective, " I shall take 
good care you do not elude me. You are going 
where I feel it is my duty to go as well, because I 
am employed by the Spanish government to watch 
your movements and those of your compatriots in 
America.” 

These thoughts were soon interrupted by the 
Cuban’s movement toward a closed carriage that had 
stopped before the door, and out of which stepped a 
small-statured, nimble-footed fellow, evidently of 
the same nationality as himself, who gesticulated 
violently to the figure standing in the light. 

"This way, senor ! ” was the quick, jerky language 
of the messenger. "I am a little late, and it is a 
long ride to our destination.” 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


109 


" In which direction?” asked Juan, speaking as 
one suspicious of the good intentions of his guide, 
whom he did not remember of ever seeing until 
to-night. 

" To the south — and over dark roads,” was the 
reply of the messenger, speaking, as before, in 
Spanish. 

A figure with stooping shoulders, carrying a 
large umbrella to keep off the rain, passed along 
close to the carriage at this moment ; so close, in fact, 
that every word of the conversation was readily 
overheard. 

"Very good,” was the inward thought of the 
latter personage. "To the south — and over dark 
roads,” he repeated to himself as he trudged slowly 
along. " It’s devilish lucky I picked up a smattering 
of Spanish while I was working that murder case in 
Madrid. If I hadn’t, though, they wouldn’t have 
sent me to America to shadow filibusters.” 

There was a hurried slamming of the carriage 
door, the driver whipped up his horses, and when 
the stooping figure suddenly stood erect and glanced 
back Fernandez was being borne rapidly away in 
the direction his companion had indicated as their 
destination. 

The detective (for it was he who had so cleverly 
discovered the direction the carriage was to take) 
did not have to think twice before acting. A car- 
riage was at that moment rumbling along toward the 
hotel, for he could hear it coming, and a faint gleam 
of light from one of its side lamps assured him it 
was in sight. Its driver, he soon decided, was a 


no 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


typical hackman of the city, a man he felt he could 
depend on in the event of trouble, judging from his 
muscular frame and a certain fearlessness of manner 
noticeable as he pulled up his horses in response to 
the Englishman’s signal. 

“ Kerridge, boss? ” he asked respectfully. 44 Stay 
out all night, if you want to. Where d’ye want to 
go?” 

44 To the south,” the Englishman made answer, 
44 and over dark roads.” 

44 Street and number, boss ? ” The mere indication 
of a compass point was indeed bewildering, and the 
detective was forced to laugh softly over his indefi- 
nite orders. 

4 4 See here, my friend,” he continued in a tone 
calculated to inspire confidence, 44 1 want you to 
drive in a southerly direction, till you overtake a 
carriage containing two people who’ve just left the 
hotel. I’ll trust your shrewdness to do so, since 
they have not been gone five minutes ; and when 
you get within easy distance, slow up your horses 
and shadow the parties. You shall be well paid for 
your trouble, but you must keep close-mouthed 
about whatever happens to-night.” 

It was a matter of ten minutes later than this 
time when the Englishman’s carriage had approached 
near enough to the vehicle in which was the Cuban 
to make sui'e of the way. At first the only guide 
was the distant rumble of carriage wheels to the 
south, which kept about the same degree of distinct- 
ness for a while, and then, by a sudden spurt of the 
pursuer, it was easily seen that a closed carriage, 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


Ill 


with lights twinkling on either side, just as described 
to the driver, was ahead of them on the main 
thoroughfare. But suddenly the carriage in sight 
whisked around the corner of a street leading still 
more to the south, and by the way the driver in- 
creased the speed of his horses, there was little 
doubt that he had discovered a pursurer. 

“Have they given us the slip, my man?” asked 
the detective, when apprised by his driver of the 
state of things. 

“ It’s a good ’un handling them ribbons, boss,” 
was the reply. “But there isn’t a night-hawk in 
the city as can run away from Dasher — that’s me, 
ye know. So keep a tight grip while I send the 
hosses along !” 

Then followed a period devoted to horse talk, the 
dexterous use of a whip, and an intermingling of 
words not found in the vocabulary of the polite and 
refined. Mr. Dasher — he was rightly named — 
was warming up to the work in hand ; and if the 
way the fire flew from the pavement argued a very 
high rate of speed, the confidence he reposed in 
himself was not wrongly placed. 

“ Good heavens ! ” ejaculated the detective, “ this 
beats a London cabby’s speed, I do believe.” He 
was holding determinedly to the carriage straps and 
listening to the animals’ hoofs as they emitted a 
sharp, metallic sound on striking the pavement. 

“ I only hope the Cuban’s party won’t lose us in 
the beastly crooked streets,” he continued to him- 
self. “ It ’s a pity, too, the night's so dark. If we 
had but a faint light from the moon, it would be 


112 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


easier to keep track of ’em. However, we’re in for 
it — whew ! but that was a sudden turn — ” (Dasher 
was cutting corners in a surprising manner) ‘ ‘ and 
there’s no use in grumbling.” 

Dasher now had the Cuban’s carriage again in 
sight, and though he no longer whipped his horses 
so unmercifully, they were kept up to their work by 
a sharp touch of the whip to their foam-flecked 
haunches. 

6 4 1 say, cabby, you know, ” said the Englishman, 
thrusting his head out of the window, “there’s 
another team behind us tearing along like mad. 
Mind it doesn’t collide with us in this narrow street. 
Bless me ! what a night ! ” 

“I’ve got the right o’ way,” yelled the burly 
hackman, and let them as wants it fight for it ! 
Signed, ‘ Jay Dasher, champion,’ as they say in the 
sportin’ column.” 

There was little use in arguing with the driver, 
and the detective contented himself with simply 
holding on inside the carriage. Whoever was fol- 
lowing, he judged from the sound of the wheels, 
was driving a spirited pair of horses, and evidently 
meant to pass, at all hazards, the team owned by 
Jay Dasher. This was the height of foolishness, the 
Englishman thought, and if persisted in would inev- 
itably end in a smash-up, if nothing worse in the 
nature of an accident happened. 

The incidents that followed were brief and excit- 
ing. Along sped the horses, sometimes neck-and- 
neck, but sufficiently wide apart to avoid contact ; 
and then the Englishman seeing the other driver was 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


113 


bent on passing, ordered Dasher to keep close to 
his side of the street, the better to avoid a collision 
in the darkness. 

“I hate to do it,” muttered that worthy, “and 
damn me if I would if the horses were a little 
fresher ! ” 

The night being dark and rainy, the impromptu 
race was witnessed by but few passers, and these 
involuntarily turned as they trudged homeward, 
happy in the reflection that if anything of a serious 
nature happened they could read it under a double- 
header in the morning papers. It ended in a crash 
eventually, for through Dasher’s stubbornness in not 
readily yielding the right of way, and a woman’s 
persistent orders to the other driver, the two car- 
riages locked wheels and the horses were brought to 
a standstill. 

“ I was afraid of something like this happening,” 
mused the Englishman as he alighted and very gal- 
lantly went to the assistance of the lady in the other 
carriage, which seemed to have sustained the only 
damage resulting from the collision. “We can’t 
possibly gain on the Cuban now, even if the hack is 
none the worse for this mishap.” 

“ Allow me to help you, madame,” he said in a 
gentlemanly voice, noticing the woman was trying 
to open the door from the inside. “ Your coachman 
has all he can do to manage his horses, and one of 
the carriage wheels is useless, so far as continuing 
your journey to-night is concerned. 

She then gave him her hand, and, gathering up 
her skirts from the muddy street, alighted to in- 


114 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


spect the damage done the wheel. A sudden reve- 
lation flashed over the detective as he saw her 
features in the dim light. This was the woman who 
refused to know the Cuban only a few hours before ! 
Where was she going on such a dark and stormy 
night, if not to keep an appointment important in its 
nature ? 

44 Perhaps,” he thought, “she is going to meet 
Fernandez.” 

“Yes, the wheel is useless, ” she angrily remarked 
after a brief inspection. “And it’s all owing to the 
stupidity of your driver ! ” she continued, address- 
ing the detective. “ Why didn’t he get out of the 
way and allow us to pass ? ” 

“You cannot possibly regret this accident more 
than I,” Hartley coolly returned. “ But you must 
remember, nevertheless, that the night is very dark 
and the street uncommonly narrow. You will also 
pardon me, I hope, for reminding you that my man 
had the right of way, and that your coachman acted 
foolishly in trying to crowd him so.” 

4 4 But stopping to argue won’t make matters any 
better,” the woman retorted. 

44 Very true — at least, not much better,” the detec- 
tive replied, while watching the play of passion on 
her pretty face. 

44 You talk like an Englishman, sir, though I can- 
not see your face very plainly.” He took good care 
she should not scan his features until he had time to 
study her awhile longer. 

“I have no wish to deny my nationality,” he 
replied. 44 1 am an Englishman. Percival Hartley, 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


115 


commercial traveler, of London, and wholly at your 
service. And your name, you said, is — ” 

“ Madame de Bouvilld,” she hesitatingly answered. 

“ Then I am addressing a native of La Belle 
France ? ” he asked with a covert smile. 

“It is true I married, when young, the French 
gentleman whose name I bear, Henri de Bouville. 
But in my present distress, I cast myself upon the 
generosity of an English traveling man.” 

“Then permit me to hand you into my carriage, 
and while we are driving to your place of destina- 
tion, which, very singularly, is near where my ap- 
pointment calls me to-night, your coachman can have 
the wheel repaired and follow on. How does this 
arrangement suit you, Madame de Bouville? ” 

“ You are very kind ; and as to the arrangement, 
I can think of nothing better. It is a singular coin- 
cidence that we are both going to Cosmos Park to- 
night.” 

By this time Reinhardt’s coachman — the reader 
has, of course, recognized the elegant equipage — 
had temporarily patched up the broken wheel, and 
with the assistance of a passer-by had driven slowly 
off in search of a carriage-smith, while the driver of 
the hack, under new orders, resumed his journey 
south with the addition of another passenger, in the 
person of the lady. 

“Very singular, madame,” replied the detective 
quickly. “ Yes, yes — sure enough. But really, do 
you know, I’ve lost my note-book ; yes, it doesn’t 
seem to be in any of my pockets. So I can only 
tell you the name of the gentleman I am to meet ; 

8 


116 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


but, since it involves confession on my part, I trust 
you will never repeat what I am going to say. 

“Certainly not, Mr. Hartley; that were base 
ingratitude for the service you are rendering me.” 

“ Well, then,” continued Hartley slowly, “ I have 
promised to meet a few congenial spirits to-night — 
men of the town, in fact — who go in for a quiet 
game, a little champagne, and that sort of thing, 
you know.” 

‘ ‘ Ah, I see,” returned Madame Beatrice. 4 £ Some- 
thing gotten up in your honor by a few of the trav- 
eling men you have met here, perhaps. And you 
will enjoy the night, Mr. Hartley, in the company 
of such people.” 

“No doubt of it; we travelers go in for a jolly 
time, you know, when not showing samples to some 
crusty old party. But so far as I know, there are 
to be no traveling men with me to-night. I am 
simply the guest of a very affable gentleman whose 
acquaintance I formed this evening at the hotel 
where I am stopping — at Parker’s, you know.” 

“ Then you are staying in town for a while?” 

“ Only for a short time, perhaps. I have got to 
wait for a new line of silks, and the samples will be 
sent to me direct from Paris or London, I hardly 
know which yet.” 

“I was simply wondering if your friend is any 
one I have met, since I have some few acquaintances 
in the city.” 

“Indeed — have you, now? His name, I am 
quite sure, is Brawn — Roderick Brawn, I think. 
It is possible you know him.” 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


117 


“I have some acquaintance with the gentleman, 
yes. You will find him a very companionable man ; 
but, for the service you have rendered me, I wish to 
warn you against one thing. Avoid a quarrel with 
Roderick Brawn, for he is very passionate and a 
skillful swordsman. In confidence, I will say that I 
am going to his house myself on important business.” 

“ This is the second warning of the kind I have 
had to-night,” replied the Englishman, “and you 
may be sure I shall not court death at the point of 
his sword. Thanks, my dear Madame de Bouville, 
for your kindly interest in me. But have you no 
fears for your own safety to-night? And is there not 
some further service I can perform — act as your 
escort, for instance ? ” 

The carriage had now stopped before a large block 
in a side street down which the hackman had turned. 
In the building itself, nor yet in the surroundings 
of the neighborhood, was there anything differing 
from the aspect of a dozen other localities in the city. 
It was, perhaps, a very near approach to the ideal 
neighborhood, in that th'e way one man lived, or 
why he lived at all, concerned his next door neigh- 
bor very little if any. 

“ I shall be obliged to leave you here,” Madame 
Beatrice replied, “ for I am to enter at this first 
door, while your friend’s apartments are up another 
flight. Oh ! no, Monsieur Hartley ; there is no 
danger in my being here alone. The place is very 
respectable I assure you ; and if I must confess it, I 
take pleasure sometimes in a game of chance myself. 
The excitement, I suppose, lends a fascination.” 


118 


SATED BY THE SWORD. 


“ Excitement very naturally attends the game — 
yes,” said the detective, when he had conducted her 
to the door she wished to enter. “ Well, I will leave 
you here, and hope we shall soon meet again, 
madame.” 

But he saw her no more until the night was far 
advanced — and then, flushed with wine, his fair 
acquaintance was seated at the piano playing spark- 
ling operatic airs, surrounded by a group of admirers 
who listened with rapt attention. Soon madame’s 
rich, cultivated soprano rose above the low voices of 
players in the room beyond, and she had, in figura- 
tive phrase, the world of Cosmos at her feet. The 
game was not progressing with its usual zest to-night ; 
it was not a profitable sitting for the bank, since the 
plays made were small ones, and nobody seemed to 
risk much money on the turning of a card. The 
Englishman had played lightly and won — which, 
Roderick Brawn shrewdly argued, insured his pat- 
ronage of the tables in future. He had, moreover, 
become a favorite with the company ; and when he 
was asked to give them a song or story, the pseudo- 
drummer saw the policy of complying with their re- 
quest. The detective was, however, in a quandary : 
he could not sing, and was in no humor for story- 
telling. In his dilemma a happy idea suggested a 
way out of difficulties. He was clever as a reader, 
and would recite a little poem, the subject of which, 
very opportunely, had a near affinity for the char- 
acter of a soldier. So, with tender pathos and good 
dramatic action, he charmed his hearers by its ren- 
dition. 


SAVED BY THE SAVOllD. 


119 


THE SENTINEL FLOWER. 

The Sentinel Flower, O comrades of old, 

Is guarding your rest in its cuirass of gold! 

On fields where you fell in the heat of the fray, 

So proud to the last of our standards so gay; 

And the ring of the challenge is kindly and true, — 
“Halt! ’tis the grave of a soldier you view.” 

Though strangers you are to the heralds of fame, 

The halos of glory encircle each name; 

E’en princes may envy the bliss of your dream, 

This lonely bivouac by the murmuring stream ; 

And the feathery blossoms that wave o’er the tomb, 
Dispel by their splendor the shadows of gloom. 

Aweary of conflict, and silent and lone, 

The soldier will dream of the years that have flown ; 

Of vows of devotion, and clasping of hands, 

And pressure of lips in the far-away lands ! 

While the voices of dear ones, so tender and low, 

Are borne on the winds of the lost Long Ago. 

Afar o’er the moorland, O comrades of yore, 

The bugles are sounding the battle once more ! 

My spirit is saddened, for soon I shall lie 
Alone and unknown, ’neath the midsummer sky; 

But the Sentinel Flower my slumbers will woo, — 

“ Halt! ’tis the grave of a soldier you view.” 

* * * * * * 

The door was opened for Madame de Bouville by 
an elderly man whose quiet demeanor denoted the 
well-trained servant who knows his place and has no 
questions to ask without good cause. He stood 
respectfully aside until Beatrice had entered the hall- 
way ; then the door was locked and bolted as before, 
and in the security of a cosily-lighted room madame 
divested herself of her outer garments, revealing the 
splendor of an elaborate evening toilet within the 
plate-glass mirror. There was the same lovely 
being, save a pale look upon her face, beauteous 


120 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


without the aid of cosmetics and powders, that 
smiled at her from the mirror in her own room at 
the Reinhardts’. Her lovely neck and arms, revealed 
to admiring eyes, heightened the picture to a rare 
degree, as she meant it should ; and in the golden 
splendor of her hair, arranged with exquisite taste, 
sparkled a jeweled arrow that scintillated like some 
new constellation in the skies of night. Madame 
Beatrice was indeed a beautiful woman — and, like 
that fabled youth Narcissus, she delighted to admire 
her reflected image in the clear depths of the waters 
of vanity. 

"There is a gentleman waiting to see madame,” 
the servant announced, after a timid knock upon the 
door. "He came with one of your Cuban friends.” 

" Yes : I am here with that expectation,” she made 
answer. "But,” she continued, "I can’t see him 
with the color all gone out of my face. Bring me a 
little wine to refresh me, for I have had a terrible 
experience in getting here — came near being injured 
by an accident to the carriage. A small glass of 
sherry, or, better still, some of your old port — you 
understand ? ” 

"Yes’m ; old port, if you like. It’ll bring the 
roses to your cheeks, madame.” The servant, after 
serving the wine, started in the direction where the 
men were waiting, but she stopped him with a quick 
motion of her hand.” 

" Only one of them must now be admitted,” she 
said imperiously. " What I have to say concerns us 
alone. Tell Arturo to take himself out of the way 
for a while ; let him pass through to witness the 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


121 


game, if he likes. Anywhere, so long as he can be 
lound when wanted again. Bnt the stranger who 
has not been to the rendezvous before, you may 
send to me.” 

The next instant the door was opened, and Juan 
Fernandez was ushered into the presence of the 
woman with whom, only a few hours before, he had 
parted in the broker’s home — Madame de Bouville. 

" The devil ! ” he said, loud enough to be heard by 
her, as the door was closed behind him and he 
found they were alone. 

"You are very complimentary, Senor Juan,” she 
gaily answered, rising from the languid pose into 
which she had thrown herself. " But I had an idea 
devils did not appear half so amiable as I am 
to-night.” 

" Forgive me, Beatrice,” the Cuban said in softer 
tones, as he took her extended hands in his. "I am 
surprised — dumbfounded, as it were.” 

"Because you did not expect to find me waiting 
for you?” she asked him, with that charming inno- 
cence of manner she could assume. 

"Yes — because I did not expect to see you, in 
the first place ; and our last meeting, as you remem- 
ber, was under singular circumstances. It was you, 
then, who sent the message and the carriage to the 
hotel?” 

"There is no need that I should deny it, Juan. 
Yes ; I was the author of that note sent by a friend 
of your country’s cause.” 

To the Cuban’s great astonishment, Madame de 
Bouville spoke of a revolutionist whose zeal and 


122 


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patriotism he did not doubt ; whose knowledge of 
the workings of insurgent machinery, both on the 
island and among expatriated Cubans in America, 
was at once as complete and valuable as any possessed 
by his compatriots at home or abroad. Senor 
Alvarez del Marco was interested in the project then 
uppermost in the Cuban mind — a successful em- 
barkation, from different points in America, of suf- 
ficient troops, hired and drilled by Spanish gold, to 
defeat the royal army then quartered inside the 
" Trocha,” across which line, running from the north 
to the south of Cuba, the Imperialists had boasted 
that no rebel should ever draw his sword and live. 
Strongly garrisoned as was this line of demarkation, 
the brave-hearted Guajiros, inured to the privations 
of warfare by their sturdy life in the mountains, had 
fought their way into Western Cuba, where their 
friends lacked that thoroughness of organization 
essential to victory. But with the filibusters ready 
to pour into the coast cities of the west, and the 
mountaineers with their collected forces marching 
from the east, it seemed reasonable to predict for 
the Cubans a combined attack that would break the 
hated yoke of Spain. 

" Then you have never met Senor del Marco ? ” 
asked Madame Beatrice. 

"No ; I have not,” he replied. " There has been 
much that I have had to do in the interior — at Ma- 
tanzas — at other places, too, and I did not meet 
the senor. But I know of him, and I think you are 
a friend of Cuba.” 

"As to that, you can best judge by-and-by, when 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


123 


those whom I have brought together here meet you 
under this roof to-night. And now, perhaps, you 
will not think me a devil — what say you, Juan? ” 

"I spoke unthinkingly, madame,” the Cuban 
answered. " Ah ! Beatrice,” he continued, catching 
her cheeks between his soft palms and looking long 
and earnestly into her eyes, "I have not forgotten 
the old days at Havana, when you were so kind to 
me ! It’s not so long ago that Time has despoiled 
you of your beauty, Beatrice. You are even pret- 
tier to-night than when you smiled so kindly on me 
in the Plaza de Toros. I was as a stranger then 
in my own land ; and my heart was sad, madame. 
Life seemed no longer fair ; wealth, youth — all 
that a man could ask — had no charm for me that 
day. But your smile, Beatrice — ah ! it made me 
think of her. She would greet me with such kindly 
looks, madame.” 

"She? — who is it you mean, Juan?” Half affec- 
tionately, as if she really pitied the young Cuban in 
his anguish, she drew near to his side again ; and 
throwing one white, rounded arm about his neck, 
she laid her velvety cheek against his hot, flushed 
face. " Tell me who it is that has made your life so 
miserable, for perhaps I can help you.” 

"You, Beatrice?” he asked abstractedly. "Ah, 
no; it is impossible now. She is good and pure. 
But I forgot : you know her, Beatrice de Bouville ! ” 
The Cuban grew excited, and cast this pretty, cling- 
ing woman from him, as if she were some loathsome 
thing that had entwined itself around him. 

" Hush ! — in the name of mercy, Juan ; don’t 


124 SAVED BV THE SWORD. 

speak that way here. Be calmer, or you will work 
yourself into a frenzy. I fear you are not well, 
from your excited manner.” 

“ I fear so, too,” he answered dejectedly. “ My 
blood seems boiling in a fever now ; an hour ago I 
was chilled to the marrow. But I shall be better 
soon — and then I want you to tell me how you 
came to know Madelina, and how it is that you are 
staying at Senor Reinhardt’s home.” 

“ Very well, I will do so. But you must listen to 
me in a quiet way, or else I cannot tell you ; the 
walls, perhaps, are not thick enough to drown your 
voice when excited.” 

Then, with her soft hand soothingly caressing the 
Cuban’s feverish brow, Madame de Bouville told 
how, by a mere accident which she quickly utilized, 
it was her good fortune to become intimate with 
Clifford Reinhardt’s mother ; how, little by little, 
through her tact in meeting people of wealth and 
influence, it was easy for her to win the sympathy 
of those whose purses were open to the Cuban fund. 
She told him of the inner life led in the home of the 
Reinhardts ; how Madeline, as if grieving over some 
wrong, was the most uncompanionable of wives ; 
and how, day by day, she could see that between 
the broker and his wife there lay a gulf which — 
and before long — would widen so that each must 
go a different way. She pictured to the Cuban’s 
mind, only with great exaggeration of detail, the 
misery endured by Madeline on her mother-in-law’s 
account, till Juan could no longer contain himself. 

“Ah, Madelina, Madelina !” he murmured, “I 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


125 


feared it would be so. It was not because you 
loved him that they took you from me ; and now, in 
your gilded cage, imprisoned like a song bird, they 
will let you beat out your life in silence and alone. ” 

Madame Beatrice was, so far, well satisfied with 
the success of her story-telling ; for she had awak- 
ened not only the Cuban’s old love for the broker’s 
wife, but had managed to so misrepresent some 
things as to call into being his strongest pity for the 
woman he loved. Thus she listened to his rhapsody 
of feeling, and trusted to her lucky star to shine out 
upon the dim uncertainty of her half-matured plot. 

“Beatrice ! ” he cried, springing to his feet, “ have 
you summoned me here to torture me like this?” 

“No; I swear it! Until we met so unexpect- 
edly this evening, I knew nothing of what you have 
yourself revealed to me. It was to warn you 
against an Englishman sent by the Imperialists to 
discover our plans in America.” 

“An Englishman, you say? Then it must be 
Seiior Higgleton. It was he they tried to kill.” 

“ And it is he who must be guarded against. If 
he is found — ah ! well, you know what will happen.” 

“ Nothing of harm must come to my friend,” the 
Cuban answered. “Remember, Beatrice, no stabs 
in the dark for him ! Besides, even if he is the one 
you mean, he has gone from here on the train.” 

“Iam glad it is so, then ; but you need not shud- 
der at the mention of daggers ! What was it that I 
so happily averted when I saw you standing by the 
man you hate ? And now you shrink at the very 
thought of — murder ! ” 

O 


126 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


44 Beatrice ! ” said the young Cuban solemnly, 44 1 
swear by all the saints I did not go there to kill him ! 
True, I was tempted, when I saw him alone — so 
happy, while I was miserable.” 

They stood looking each other in the eye, but 
neither spoke for the moment. Madame de Bouville, 
half abashed by the Cuban’s piercing glance, was 
the first to speak. 

44 Juan Fernandez,” she began, 44 if ever you re- 
member any act of kindness I have done you, listen 
to what I am going to say. Tell me, have you any 
suspicion why I so frantically threw myself between 
you and Monsieur Reinhardt to-night ? ” 

“None whatever,” observed the Cuban with all 
the calmness of a Stoic, 44 unless it be that, like most 
women, your nerves were incapable of control in a 
moment of surprise.” 

4 4 ’T was because I love the man you would have 
killed.” Her voice was lowered to a whisper, but 
the terrible earnestness of her words rung in the 
Cuban’s ears like a pistol shot. He was dazed, sur- 
prised beyond expression ; yet, bursting suddenly 
upon him, as if from the clouds, he was conscious 
of some new happiness — a thought of Madeline. 

44 Strange words from your lips, Beatrice — this 
confession of love,” he answered calmly. 44 Yet was 
it not because of you that the son of Don Jose fell, 
pierced by the sword of an Imperialist officer ? 
Your love, they whispered in the cafe, would have 
saved him. And then the victor in the duel — what 
of him? You remember it well, madame. He 
could not live without you — and so deserted his 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


127 


regiment to follow when you departed from Cuba ; 
but he was captured before he left the harbor, and 
like a soldier he was blown from the cannon’s mouth 
on Moro Castle ! And now, Beatrice, you tell me 
you have learned what love’s grand passion is? 
Your love, madame, is the love that kills its victims 
in ways incomprehensible ! ” 

“ Juan, you must listen to me ! ” she said excit- 
edly. “It may be that my love for him will give 
you the woman you mourn as lost. His wife — 
Madelina, as you call her — what if she should fly 
from him when his love for me is known? You are 
here in America ; she will learn, sooner or later, 
that you are even in the same city ; and then , when 
the opportunity is right, what is to prevent you 
from leaving in company ? She has never forgotton 
you, perhaps. So much the better.’ 

“ Madelina fly with me ! ” he said in a voice 
husky with emotion. “ And it is you, Beatrice, 
that Senor Reinhardt loves better than his own 
beautiful wife? ” 

“And why should he not?” she asked with flash- 
ing eyes. “Am I not beautiful, as well as she? 
And as for my powers of fascination, have you known 
wherein I often failed to make men love me? You, 
my friend Juan, are among the few whom I have 
not made my slaves ; but I know how you could be 
kind and yet scorn to take advantage of my grati- 
tude — yes, I see it all. Your soul looked not on me, 
when we walked together in the faint starlight, but, 
soaring far out over the sea, it sought its happiness 
in memories of Madelina.” 


128 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


“ Yes,” said the Cuban sadly, “ it was ever so. 
I lived upon the past, though drawn into strange 
companionships for a time. Ah, well, Beatrice, life 
is indeed a vexing thing to those who love. But I 
am no longer a boy, and to the past must go all sen- 
timents of my boyhood. I feel like a soldier now 
— brave when danger threatens most, and anxious 
for the battle that is to come ! ” 

“You are a true Cuban! But with the woman 
you love standing by your side when the ship sails 
away to your beloved Cuba — a proud, beauteous 
woman, who trusts her future in a soldier’s hands — 
will it not nerve your heart to greater deeds ? ” 

“I must not look upon the picture, Beatrice. To 
me the fascination of your words is fraught with 
danger, for at the mention of Madelina’s name my 
blood leaps within me, and I grow desperate in my 
thoughts ! But there is one request I would ask of 
you, madame.” 

A knock at the door interrupted them, and 
Madame Beatrice, divining it was the signal that 
those expected had arrived, made haste to carry her 
point with Juan before they were admitted. 

“And that request is — what?” she whispered. 
“ Speak quickly, for our friends await us.” 

“It is that you will arrange a meeting for me 
with Madelina — only a few brief moments, that I 
may speak with her alone. I will make the attempt , 
for she belongs to me! ” 

Again the old servant’s knock echoed from the 
panel of the door. Quick as a flash Madame Bea- 
trice revolved in her mind the request and answered ; 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


129 


“It can be done, if you have the courage to 
enter the house again. Ah ! the masquerade — 
nothing easier. It will occur not many nights from 
now. I will send you a card of admission and let 
you know what character she assumes ; you will 
come disguised, but must not stay until the company 
unmask. Then, my pair of turtle doves, you can 
meet in safety, thanks to my friendly assistance. 
Hush ! they are coming.” 

With this admonition upon her lips, Madame 
Beatrice turned from Juan to welcome the gentle- 
men who entered. They were, like himself, Cubans 
and filibusters, but men more advanced in years. 
One of them, the younger of the party, he had 
known during his student life, and to the others, 
whose movements at present do not concern us, he 
was introduced as one worthy the confidence and 
friendship of all patriots. 


CHAPTER VII. 


’Tis the high tide that heaves the stranded ship, 

And every individual’s spirit waxes 
In the great stream of multitudes.” 

— Coleridge. 



HE night set for the masquerade 
was ushered in by clear, starlit 
g skies, with a balmy atmosphere 
ri redolent of spring, and from early 
evening until it had grown densely 
black overhead, as the clouds moved 
slowly across the bright faces of the 
J stars, the gaily costumed guests arrived 

in couples at Reinhardt’s mansion on the hill. 

4 4 What can be the matter with J uan ? ” Madame 
Beatrice wondered. 44 Surely he will not refuse to 
come, now that I have laid the trap so nicely. Ah ! 
what if my plans should fail ? ” 

There was a little flutter of curiosity as a new 
batch of arrivals alighted from their carriages. 
Beatrice, with secret joy, saw the Cuban among the 
others, and as soon as she could do so discreetly, 
she reached his side. He wore the rich, picturesque 
costume of Fra Diavolo, the bandit chief ; and his 


SAVED BY THE SWOKD. 


131 


grand carriage, his commanding presence, and the 
eager eyes that looked from behind his mask, seemed 
indeed to belong to some romantic age and people. 

“Juan, Juan!” she whispered. “It is I — ■ 
Beatrice. You were so late I feared that your cour- 
age failed you.” 

“My courage? My conscience, you should say. 
But I am here, despite my delay in eluding Seiior 
Brawn at the hotel. I think that man suspected 
that I was coming here — and to meet you, Beatrice. 
He is infatuated with — ” 

“Nonsense,” she answered, while conducting the 
Cuban to a secluded nook. “ I know what you 
would say ; that he is my lover, eh ? Perhaps it 
might be so, were I not in pursuit of better game.” 

“ So I am led to believe,” the Cuban answered. 
“ But what of Madelina? Have you learned what 
character she will take? Still, it does not matter, 
for I should know her among a thousand women.” 

“ Do not be too sure of that,” replied Madame de 
Bouville. “ The costumer’s art is a very clever one. 
However, I know, through connivance with her 
maid, that she will appear at the ball as Cleopatra.” 

“Cleopatra!” he repeated after her. “The 
most beautiful woman in Egyptian history.” 

The two then separated : the woman to make 
some trifling alteration in her costume — that of a 
Polish Princess, which gave scope for the display of 
her coquettish nature : the Cuban to loiter among 
the guests till Cleopatra should appear, when he 
intended to offer himself as her cavalier in the march 
of the maskers. 

9 


132 


' SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


The masked couples were forming for the march 
when Juan Fernandez, who had been the subject of 
much wonder, was observed to hurriedly approach a 
new-comer who had appeared in their midst in some 
mysterious way. It was Madeline, looking every 
inch the queen in her Egyptian robes, who had en- 
tered in a moment of confusion. The very luxuri- 
ance of her beauty seemed to make its impress felt 
among the guests. 

“ May the bandit chief hope for favor from 
Egypt’s lovely queen?” the Cuban asked her in a 
low, half-suppressed tone. He dreaded the ordeal 
of the meeting, and feared lest she should by some 
outcry reveal his presence in the house. “ See — 
the march is forming, and you are unattended.” 

She gave a surprised glance up to the eyes look- 
ing at her so earnestly, but did not speak. Had 
she recognized his voice, he wondered. Madeline 
seemed as if listening to a voice out of the past, 
and felt the fascination of that eager, soulful gaze. 

“ Since to-night we are equals,” she answered 
calmly, “ a queen may consort with even a thief.” 
There were no wreathing smiles about the pretty 
mouth, with its white teeth gleaming through, to 
assure the Cuban that her language was only a bit 
of pleasantry. 

“A thief only in the assumption,” Juan replied 
in the purest English he could command. “ Surely, 
you did not use the word in any other sense ? ” 

The lines about her mouth grew harder ; her lips 
more firmly set. A struggle between two emotions 
was going on within Madeline’s soul. Madame de 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


133 


Bouville, with clinched hands, was watching the 
beauteous Cleopatra, and knew what that struggle 
meant ; on the one side loyalty to a husband’s rights, 
and on the other a desire to yield to some wild, 
strange passion of a woman’s heart. 

“Juan Fernandez!” she sternly replied, “you 
have stolen into my husband’s house without his 
knowledge ; therefore are you a thief. Oh, why 
have you done this, knowing as you do how bitter 
is his feeling toward you ? But I feared you would 
do something rash, for I knew you were in the city.” 

“ Madelina, it is too late now ! ” the Cuban said, 
when it was safe to speak. “It may be the last 
time I shall ever look upon your face again — this 
night when thus we meet — you in anger, senora, 
and I in shame for intruding my hateful presence 
here.” 

“ Not hateful to me, my old friend, Juan,” she 
replied in pity. “ You know I would gladly wel- 
come you here, were it not that — ” 

“ Yes ; I know — but for him,” he said dejectedly. 
“ But listen, senora. I cannot leave the house now 
unperceived, and to do so openly means discovery. 
Let me be near you a little while ; in the dance, 
among so many, surely no harm can come of our 
meeting ! ” 

“ Hush ! we may be overheard,” she admonished 
him. “ There seems, indeed, no other way but to 
remain ; but you must leave the house before the 
guests unmask. If you are discovered, think of 
the position you will leave me in before my husband. 
Even he does not know my costume to-night.” 


134 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


“ ’Tis well, senora. Then, since they are moving 
toward the ball room, shall we not take our place 
in the march ? ” 

“ Yes,” she answered, taking his arm. “If we 
remain longer away from the dancers it will excite 
remark.” 

The orchestra were playing a delightful march, 
and Madeline’s spirits rose higher every moment as 
she followed its winding movements, conscious that 
she was among the most elaborately costumed ladies 
at the ball, and not altogether unhappy in the turn 
of affairs incident to the presence of an old lover at 
her side. 

“Ah ! well, what does it matter? ” she queried of 
herself when the first dance was over, and Juan, 
talking in tones too low for others’ hearing, was 
telling her of his life in Cuba, of his devotion 
to the cause that had brought him back to America, 
interspersed with recollections of the old days when 
they were such very good friends. “ It is only for 
to-night, and I may as well be happy. Clifford 
need not know every innocent pleasure I choose to 
take.” Then, at the memory of his seeming fond- 
ness for Madame de Bouville, expressed in little 
ways that argued nothing more, perhaps, than the 
appreciation of this bright, clever woman’s compan- 
ionship, she found it quite easy to justify the course 
Bhe was pursuing. 

Others claimed her as the evening wore on, for 
Madeline was ever a desirable partner in the dance ; 
but when the musicians played the sweet, alluring 
strains of a waltz, Cleopatra and the bandit chief, as 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


135 


if through some collusion, were among the first to 
lose themselves in its dreamy maze. They seemed 
to be oblivious at these times to whatever else was 
going on around them ; and even when Madame de 
Bouville, more by accident than design, was whirled 
by an awkward waltzer in such a way as to come for- 
cibly in contact with the Cuban, he did not recognize 
her costume, nor act as if he were conscious of her 
presence. 

He saw only the woman he was folding to his 
heart in that wild delirium of the waltz. No sound 
but her voice reached his ear above the sad, sobbing, 
wave-like melody that floated from the orchestral 
stand ; and when a sudden crash of the instruments, 
as if they were swept by some invisible spirit of the 
wind in a movement of anger, made her words 
inaudible to him, he still interpreted in love’s un- 
written language the motion of her lips, and felt 
each heart-throb with all a lover’s ecstasy of feeling. 

Such, too, it must be confessed, was the philo- 
sophical manner in which Mrs. Reinhardt viewed 
the situation. She breathed the air of a new 
freedom. It was so great a change from the routine 
of suspicion, guarded friendships, and endless ques- 
tioning of her outgoings, that had made her 
married life unhappy. There was no one but Juan, 
she imagined, who knew her here ; so there could 
be no excuse for fault-finding in the morning, when 
the household awoke to take up its dull character 
again — leaving the mirth and music of the mas- 
querade to be remembered as something seen in 
fairyland. 


136 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


Beatrice meanwhile, had found an opportunity to 
engage the broker in a tete-a-tete, during which she 
adroitly turned the conversation in Madeline’s direc- 
tion, and as cleverly revealed her own identity in 
confidence to him. The fact that Reinhardt did not 
know which of the ladies was his wife made him 
depressed at the beginning of the ball, but he had so 
far kept his promise not to seek her out until the 
proper time. Still, his jealous disposition gave rise 
to an uncomfortable suspicion at times, and he re- 
gretted having pledged his word in the way he did. 

“ Then monsieur does not know his wife’s cos- 
tume?” she asked. “How strange, indeed! But 
perhaps you do not care to be informed, so I will 
not spoil monsieur’s pleasure.” 

" Oh, as to that, madame, it really doesn’t matter 
much. I enjoy knowing that she is here, and as for 
ourselves — why, the time is passing very pleas- 
antly ! But I suppose her’s is among the less con- 
spicuous costumes here to-night.” 

“Oh, monsieur?” Beatrice’s voice and manner 
were such as to arouse Reinhardt from the easy, half 
playful manner he had learned to assume in her 
company. “ Why, she is the belle — the sensation 
of the evening. Surely, you have seen her — 
danced with her perhaps ! ” 

Then a couple who were beginning a new waltz 
swept past them as they sat talking. It was the 
Cuban and Madeline. This gave Madame de 
Bouville the opportunity she had been waiting for, 
and she contrived to follow them with her eyes in a 
way Reinhardt could not fail to comprehend ; yet 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


137 


she kept silent, and coquettishly wielded her fan 
while awaiting his reply. 

“ Madame,” he began in a husky, strange tone of 
voice, “ do you mean by looks to express what you 
do not, perhaps, care to say to me in speech ? ” 

“ So, then — monsieur suspects?” There was a 
world of meaning in her words, few and simple as 
they were. 

“ That the lady who has just passed us — Cleo- 
patra, they call her — is my wife?” he interrupted, 
finishing the sentence Beatrice would have uttered. 
“ Yes, I know it must be so.” 

She had expected him to betray his jealousy ; and 
now, wisely foreseeing it were better to let subse- 
quent events develop of themselves, madame soon 
found a pretext for leaving his side. 

“Now remember, monsieur,” she whispered to 
Reinhardt, “ not a word of this to anyone. Only 
I thought it best to drop you a hint ; these masked 
affairs are not incapable of harm.” 

“ Very true, madame,” he answered quietly. “ I 
comprehend. But I confess that I am surprised 
Madeline could so well deceive me in her costume. 
If you have noticed any perturbation of manner, 
anything odd in me, you understand — I hope the 
reason is rightly understood.” 

“ Certainly, monsieur,” replied Beatrice. But 
as she drifted away in the arms of the gentleman who 
had claimed her for the waltz, her thoughts took 
quite a different turn. “ He is alarmed,” she 
assured herself, “ and will likely say some unpleas- 
ant things in the morning.” 


138 


, SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


Being left to himself, Reinhardt could not justify 
the conduct of his wife in whatever light he viewed 
it ; and the more he pondered the matter in his mind, 
as he furtively watched the two dancers, the more 
settled became the conviction that she had imposed 
on him. Moreover, it was so obvious a piece of 
deception, that he felt there was no room for expla- 
nation, should he feel inclined to listen to her story. 
The secrecy she wished to maintain in regard to her 
costume he could now understand, and however 
plausible might be her version of the affair, here 
was one phase of it that could not be explained 
away. Who her companion was, and how he gained 
admittance to his house, were questions that troubled 
him and gave rise to new conjectures. 

The reader already knows the sequel to Rein- 
hardt’s abrupt appearance before Fernandez and 
Madeline at the conclusion of the waltz, when so 
complete was their infatuation that they had become 
oblivious to their surroundings, and were beginning 
to draw the attention of others by waltzing together 
after the dance had ended. But in the confusion 
that followed Madame de Bouville deserves mention 
not accorded her before, for it was due to her that 
the cry of “ thief” was raised, which effectually 
drew the attention of the guests in a new direction, 
and the slight incident witnessed in the ball room 
was for that night at least superseded by a more 
startling, not to say romantic turn of affairs, in the 
midst of which the broker’s mother had a timely 
attack of hysterics and thus heightened the general 
excitement. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


139 


The morning after the ball dawned bright and 
beautiful, but there were few of its participants who 
saw the sun’s earliest beams shoot up from the sea, 
rising higher in their erratic flight, until, like a 
shower of silver-tipped arrows, they darted hither 
and thither over the quaint old city. Society’s 
votaries care little for the splendor of the sunrise 
after a night of social dissipation, when tired eye- 
lids seek respite from the glare and glitter of the 
ball room, and languid bodies demand long periods 
of repose to fit them for the pleasures that come 
again with nightfall. 

This being true of the fashionable world in 
general, it will explain how Madame de Bouville, 
after a refreshing sleep that lasted until her mantel 
clock chimed the hour of nine, awoke with all her 
usual buoyancy of spirit. She pushed up her 
window and drew in a tiny silver basin, which 
had been left out through the night to catch the 
falling dew, preparatory to the making of a charm- 
ing toilet ; for madame had a superstition that a dew 
bath, being nature’s own cosmetic, was the very best 
conservator of a woman’s complexion, if only the 
subtle moisture could be caught in a vessel of 
silver. The fresh, in-rushing air of this spring morn- 
ing, faintly suggestive of bursting buds in the gar- 
den below, was in itself so invigorating and agree- 
able, that madame chose to risk catching cold by 
remaining in the draught quite deshabille. Tempted 
by a desire to appear at breakfast in the gayest of 
spirits, she began to execute a series of gymnastics, 
going through graceful exercises that set the blood 


140 


SAVED BY THE SWOKD. 


bounding in her veins, until the delicate skin was 
aglow with the roseate flush of health. This was 
followed by that delightful feeling of warmth and 
geniality which comes with perfect circulation, and 
as madame turned to her mirror she smiled in a sat- 
isfied way at the image reflected therein. Pope’s 
fair Belinda, at her toilet amid 

“ Puffs, powders, patches, Bibles, billet-doux ,” 
was not a whit more lovely than Madame de Bou- 
ville as she appeared before her glass this bright 
May morning. And when she had donned a pale 
blue wrapper, relieved at the throat by filmy lace, 
the effect of her elaborate preparation was strikingly 
apparent as she sallied down to breakfast. 

Only the broker’s mother was in the dining-room 
when Beatrice entered. A tired, troubled look, 
which told of a restless night after the masquerade, 
was discernible on her face. But on perceiving 
Madame de Bouville, bright and rosy as the morning 
itself, she welcomed her with outstretched arms and 
a motherly kiss. 

“I am glad you have come, Beatrice,” she said, 
“for I am weak and low spirited this morning. 
Clifford will be in presently and we will have break- 
fast ; he is looking miserably, and I fear he is the 
worse for that lamentable affair last night.” 

“ The affair of last night,” repeated Beatrice 
abstractedly. “ Oh ! yes, I know. You mean the 
, robber who was discovered ? ” 

“ Yes; the thief who had the audacity to throw 
my guests into consternation. Oh ! dear, dear, it 
completely ended the ball, for the ladies were too 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


141 


frightened to dance afterward. It is an outrage on 
society to let such people go at large ! ” 

“So it is, madame. And Monsieur Kemhardt, 
perhaps, was too generous to the little hunchback. 
He was only a boy, it is true ; but may he not have 
been a confederate of the other ? ” 

“ Yes ; I believe now he was, Beatrice. But he 
is gone, and we shall probably never get another 
clue to the mystery. However, nobody’s diamonds 
seem to have been stolen ; and were it not for the 
talk it will make, I should think no more about it.” 

“ Oh, well, let people talk, madame. It cannot 
be more than a nine-days’ wonder at the most. Of 
course it will get into the papers, be read and com- 
mented on — and then, in a day or two, it will be 
forgotten. Ah ! here is the paper, madame. Let me 
see if there is anything about the ball.” 

Madame de Bouville opened the newspaper and 
eagerly scanned its columns, her eye glancing rapid- 
ly over each item, lest mention of the masquerade 
should escape her notice. 

“The paper has only a meagre report of the 
matter, as you have heard me read it,” said Beatrice ; 
“ so you see it isn’t anything you need worry over.” 

Then Clifford came in to breakfast, receiving with 
apparent indifference his wife’s message, that she 
was indisposed this morning and would not be down, 
and Beatrice did not continue the subject. 

“ Madame de Bouville,” he said in a low voice, 
after her cordial greeting was over, “ I heard you 
speaking with my mother about last night’s occurrence. 
May I ask as a favor, madame, that you will not let 


142 


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her know the truth ? Be my friend in this, and 
there is nothing in reason I would not do to repay 
your kindness. She is old, and not very strong ; the 
shock of knowing that my wife has acted so indis- 
creetly might throw her into a passion, and I fear 
for the result.” 

“ I will promise monsieur not to reveal his secret,” 
she replied. “And as for the rest, remember that 
Beatrice de Bouville asks no greater happiness than 
to be your friend.” 

“ I thank you for your friendship, Beatrice,” the 
broker answered tenderly. He was beginning to 
feel the force of her presence, as from day to day 
he discovered some new charm of voice or manner ; 
and this morning she looked so pretty, was so ani- 
mated, and yet so full of pity for him, that he 
sighed to think of her ever leaving his mother’s 
companionship to share the dangers of the filibusters 
on a foreign shore. 

The breakfast over, Reinhardt left the house with- 
out seeing his wife ; and dining late with his club, he 
did not meet her the rest of the day. It was so the 
following day, for the memory of that scene in the 
conservatory goaded him to misery, till he could not 
trust himself in a meeting with Madeline. 

He thought of methods by which he might quietly 
gain a separation from his wife, if the gravity of her 
offense warranted such a step ; but feeling the need 
of legal advice, and being on terms of intimacy with 
a prominent divorce lawyer, he went to him for 
counsel. The result of this visit was far from satis- 
factory. It made it imperative that he should first 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


143 


call on his father-in-law and arrange matters with 
him ; then, if he really meant to institute proceed- 
ings, the custody of their child, and the amount to 
be settled on his wife as alimony, with numerous et- 
ceteras , could be talked over and agreed upon. 

The first stipulation laid down by his legal friend 
warned him against hasty action in the direction 
of the courts. He lacked the courage to meet 
his father-in-law under such circumstances as these 
and tell him why he had come. Beside, he no longer 
had Maitland in his debt, and could not bring him 
to terms in the event of a quarrel. Fortune had 
suddenly smiled on the worldly prospects of the old 
merchant ; for one day news came from South 
America, and men called Gregory Maitland rich, 
while ambitious young clerks with a few hundreds to 
invest besieged him with questions about the guano 
fields. The tide had turned at last, and when Mait- 
land looked the world square in the face again, not 
even his son-in-law’s claims remained uncanceled. 

4 ‘Then, suppose you sleep over your purpose 
another night,” said Reinhardt’s lawyer, when he 
objected to the advice laid down. “I do not want 
to plunge you into the misery of a divorce ! Give 
the matter further thought ; ask yourself, if need 
be, where the trouble lies ; think of your child, 
man ! have you no love for — ” 

But Reinhardt, aroused to the enormity of the step 
he was about to take, would hear no more. 

“ Stop ! stop ! ” he cried out in anguish. “ You 
will drive me mad ! Let me think ; give me a little 
time, and I will see you again.” 


144 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


He rushed blindly into the street, and mingling 
with the throng, sought to forget that a shadow had 
suddenly darkened all his life. 

It was a strange happening of fate that the Cuban 
and his friend Luddington should pass Clifford Rein- 
hardt shortly after his hurried departure from the 
lawyer’s office. The two were sauntering leisurely 
along, and the Bostonian, whose attention was pre- 
occupied at the moment, saw nothing of the quick, 
surprised glances exchanged between his companion 
and the broker. The effect of the meeting on Rein- 
hardt was instantaneous and striking. His worst 
fears were now confirmed, and controlling a desire 
to return and confront the Cuban, he continued on 
his way in a towering passion. 

During the interval between the accidental meet- 
ing with Madame de Bouville and the incident above 
spoken of the English detective had made good use 
of his time. The advantages gained by being intro- 
duced among the frequenters of Cosmos Park had 
been followed up to the extent that he had made 
himself familiar with the plans of the Cuban patriots, 
and incidentally, from what he had been able to 
learn of the Reinhardts and their friendliness toward 
Madame Beatrice, he suspected something of her 
designs in that direction. 

On closer acquaintance, the detective found the 
adventuress a most interesting woman ; one who, in 
addition to beauty, possessed the charm of being a 
good talker on a variety of subjects, and who could 
effectually sustain the character of a French gentle- 
womau. Her history, so far as she had ever touched 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


145 


upon it, was ordinary enough. The daughter of a 
Parisian wine merchant, orphaned in her girlhood, 
she had sought the opera-bouffe to begin a career 
before the foot-lights. Then followed her marriage 
with Henri de Bouville ; the gay, happy life she led 
in France ; her husband’s death as a soldier in Cuba. 
All this, with the exception of the opera-bouffe, was 
the same story she had told before ; but the English-* 
man was qualified to judge of its truth or falsity. 
He, unhappily for her peace of mind, if she did but 
know it, had been told at Havana that, among those 
who in America were actively helping the insurgents, 
he would find this same keen-witted, fascinating 
woman, who had now come to regard him somewhat 
in the light of a friend — the result, no doubt, of the 
slight favor he had done her one stormy night — while 
his easy, affable manner, in the assumed character of 
a traveling man, served to inspire confidence and 
make his society agreeable. It was the discovery 
that she was then in the same city with Juan Fer- 
nandez, at the time when the detective was about to 
take the metropolitan express in search of her, that 
had excited his suspicion at the train and led to a 
change of previously conceived plans. 

Thus does it happen that on the day the Cuban 
and Reinhardt had met so unexpectedly, the detec- 
tive had an appointment to keep with Madame de 
Bouville at Cosmos Park. The hour had been set 
at four o’clock, and on consulting his bulPs-eye after 
dinner, he had found he had fully an hour to reach 
the place of meeting. So he set out to leisurely 
walk in the direction of the Park, never thinking 


14G 


SAVED BY THE SWOBD. 


but that his memory of the streets he had passed 
through in a carriage on other occasions would be a 
sufficient guide. He felt quite sure of his way until 
he had turned several corners leading into ways that 
wore a not familiar look. The detective laughed 
quietly at the idea of his getting lost in daylight, 
and concluded he had better keep on in the direction 
he was going ; but presently, through a narrow 
street he came suddenly upon, he caught a glimpse 
of the high, tapering masts of the shipping, and 
knew that he had been gradually drawing near the 
water front, until he was entirely out of his way and 
on the verge of the harbor. 

He whistled softly to himself and stood looking in 
either direction in hope of seeing a carriage ap- 
proaching him. The long, dusty street was deserted 
save by the draymen’s teams he saw in the distance. 
But yonder, leaning idly over the wharf, was a boy 
apparently doing nothing but gaze upon the water. 
He would bribe him with a few pennies to forsake 
his study of the tide, and become for a time the 
guide of a traveler who had wandered from his 
course. 

The detective gave vent to a sharp whistle, which 
aroused the lad from his reverie ; then he called to 
him, and signaled that he wished to speak with him. 
But instead of darting toward him, he noticed that 
the lad’s first impulse was to run away, and it was 
evident from his actions that he wavered in doubt. 

“Don’t be frightened, my lad,” he called out to 
him. “ I only want you to show me the way.” 

Then, as the boy advanced toward him, the detec- 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


147 


tive saw for the first time that he had stumbled upon 
the little hunchback who had tried to relieve him of 
his purse, and he readily understood, from Dandy’s 
unwillingness to meet him, that the lad had been 
quick in his recognition. 

“ So, it’s you, is it?” Hartley continued in a 
reassuring manner. “ Well, I’m glad to see you 
again, and I hope you haven’t forgotten why I paid 
you that money the night you wanted to pick my 
pocket.” 

Dandy hesitated a little, as if trying to shape his 
thoughts into speech, fidgeting meanwhile with the 
sleeves of his coat, which, being a trifle too long for 
him, were rolled back to give his arms better play. 
He looked about to make sure he was not being- 
watched by Tom Barlow, or any of the family, and 
then bounding around the corner out of range of 
the junk shop, he waited for the detective to follow. 

“ If they catches me talkin’ to a strange cove like 
you,” Dandy began, “ they’ll lick me till I tell ’em 
what’s in the wind.” 

“Do they beat you very often?” the detective 
asked, with a desire to learn something of the lad’s 
history. 

“ Well, more’n I want to be licked,” was the 
answer. “Tom’s pretty good to me, though — 
when he’s home ; but the old man’s ugly, now he’s 
drinkin’ again. And the other night I ran away 
from him ; so if you keep me talkin’ here too long, 
and he happens to want me, there’ll be trouble when 
I get back.” 

After this pathetic statement of the case, he could 
10 


148 


, SAVED BY THE SWOBD. 


find no excuse for detaining the boy longer than was 
really necessary, and on Dandy’s informing him that 
he knew the way to Cosmos Park, the two set out 
on their journey thither. The detective, however, 
continued his adroit questioning as they walked 
along, and was not a little amused at the manner of 
Dandy, who felt something of his own importance 
in the eyes of the stranger, and even had the temer- 
ity to allude to some people’s habit of wearing their 
whiskers in their pockets. A shrill, childish laugh 
escaped the hunchback’s lips at the memory of the 
scene he had witnessed at the depot, and Hartley 
good-humoredly joined in his glee, while praising 
him for having kept the secret so well. 

The afternoon was mild and warm, and becoming 
heated by their brisk walk, they slackened their 
pace, and took a breathing spell. Being somewhat 
more than comfortably warm, the detective carelessly 
threw his coat open to the wind ; and a few mo- 
ments later, happening to glance down at the little 
figure trudging beside him, he smiled to see that the 
child had imitated his action, and unbuttoned his 
old Prince Albert coat (a late addition to his ward- 
robe, obtained from a friendly pawnbroker) with 
the air of a merchant prince, while the sportive wind 
whisked the coat-tails around Dandy’s legs in a way 
that impeded free locomotion. 

“Your coat doesn’t fit very well,” the detective 
observed. “By the way, who’s your tailor?” he 
dryly remarked. 

Undisturbed by the question, yet aware that his 
new friend was making sport of him, Dandy twirled 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


149 


his fingers in the arm-holes of his vest, and striking 
a comical attitude, he looked up into the detective’s 
face with a mischievous twinkle lurking in his big 
blue eyes. 

“ I buys my clo’es ready-made, boss ! ” 

Too much amused to think of replying, the de- 
tective stood studying the spectacle before him. 
At first he saw only a small, grotesque body, with a 
jauntily-posed head on its shoulders. Then his eye 
took in the whole situation — the half-defiant pose 
of the hunchback, his complete mastery of the situ- 
ation, and, lastly, what caused the usually cool- 
headed detective to involuntarily start in a sur- 
prised manner, a ring that Dandy had slipped on his 
finger after getting out of sight of the junk dealer’s 
shop. The discovery of the ring, which Hartley 
instantly recognized as identical with that worn by 
the Spaniard who had killed his brother on the 
Storm King, was strangely interesting to him. He 
remembered the baleful glitter of the serpent’s jew- 
eled eyes, that morning in the fog, when the hand 
on which the ring was worn held a murderous knife 
in its grasp. 

4 4 Boy, where did you get that ring?” he asked 
excitedly, seizing Dandy’s hand and making a closer 
inspection. 

4 4 1 took it off ’n a man’s finger what we found in 
the water, and it’s mine for keeps, boss.” 

44 You mean that you got the ring from the finger 
of a dead man you found in the harbor ? ” 

44 That’s what I told you, didn’t I?” Dandy, 
being untrammeled by any finical ideas of syntax, 


150 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


did not understand that the other had only recon- 
structed his sentence in order to make its meaning 
more apparent to himself. “ Only I didn’t say the 
man was dead,” he added. 

“Ain’t dead?” repeated Hartley in amazement. 
“ Where is he now, then, and how did you get his 
ring?” 

“ I took it before he come to life again,” was the 
hunchback’s puzzling reply. “And they’ve got him 
locked up in a room now, waitin’ till it gets safe to 
let him go.” 

Then, in a few words, as they continued on their 
way, the detective learned all the hunchback knew 
about the Spaniard, and having convinced little 
Dandy that he would be a friend to him, after promis- 
ing to say nothing about the Barlows to anyone, he 
obtained the boy’s consent that he should keep the 
ring until he could meet him the next day on the 
Common. 

Having an interest in the movements of the Eng- 
lishman, we enter with him, at Cosmos Park, the 
apartment occupied by Roderick Brawn in his 
double character of a fencing master and the keeper 
of a semi-fashionable club house. The establish- 
ment is one easy of access to those who give a satis- 
factory answer to the attendant at the door, and so 
Hartley, being known to the servants, finds no diffi- 
culty in being admitted ; especially since he is to 
meet no less a favorite than Madame de Bouville. 

But madame cannot see him for half an hour yet, 
he is told. She has just arrived, and has important 
business with the master in private. So he is asked 


SAVED BY TIIE SWORD. 


151 


to make himself comfortable in an adjoining parlor. 
A bottle of Bass’ is brought him, and he is left to 
his own reflections and a late number of London 
Punch, which, being a reminder of home, he 
becomes for a time absorbed in. 

The detective was not so deeply interested in his 
paper but that he could hear the voices of Brawn 
and Madame de Bouville in high debate. A quarrel 
was evidently brewing, and he changed his seat to a 
position nearer the door, ostensibly to get a better 
light for his reading, but in reality to overhear their 
conversation. Usually, he had noticed, Brawn ap- 
peared very devoted to madame, while she accorded 
him a close intimacy without allowing his attentions 
to intrude upon her at all times, and he rightly con- 
strued their falling out to mean something serious in 
its nature. He was soon enabled to judge what the 
trouble was by hearing Brawn exclaim : — 

“ By heaven ! Beatrice, you are in my power, 
and if you do not marry me you know what to 
expect.” 

“ Fie ! Roderick Brawn,” he could hear madame 
saying. “ Is this your boasted chivalry, that you 
would coerce a woman with threats ? ” 

“ Have I not the right to claim your love?” he 
continued. “You have been the flame, and I the 
moth that hovered round it. And now, since you 
defy me, I’ll play my trump card and — ” 

“And ruin yourself as well as me,” she inter- 
rupted. “If you close your house to my Cuban 
friends, or betray us to the police, cannot you see 
you will be the loser? Who will leave as much 


152 


* SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


money at your tables as these same filibusters, in 
whom the love of play is next to patriotism? You 
are a fool to think — ” 

“Ah ! my pretty tigress, you look well in a rage ; 
but I have a greater surprise in store. What if, 
through a careless word of mine, these Cubans sus- 
pect you are a traitor to their cause ? ” 

Madame de Bouville, white with rage not unmixed 
with fear, strove to make a reply, but for the 
moment she could not utter a syllable. At this sign 
of weakness, Brawn smiled with a sense of the 
power he held over the woman he adored. 

“ You lie ! ” burst from Beatrice’s lips, when she 
had gained sufficient composure to speak. 

“Very good; but I have the proofs.” As he 
spoke, the duelist drew from his pocket a document 
which he slowly unfolded. “ This letter, found 
where you dropped it the last time you were here, 
is damaging evidence against you.” 

Madame de Bouville sprang toward him, and 
would have torn the parchment into fragments had 
he not been too quick for her. He caught her firmly 
about the waist with one arm, while with the other 
he held the letter out of reach. Then seating her 
again, he drew forth the proof of her complicity 
with Senor del Marco a second time. 

“No; you will listen while I read it to you. 
You didn’t know I had made use of my spare 
moments in learning Spanish, perhaps; but such is 
the fact, for I foresaw it was well worth the effort. 
Now listen to my translation, for you see I have a 
copy of the letter in English, 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


153 


On the other side of the door the detective lis- 
tened with strained ear for what was to follow. It 
seemed a long time before he heard Brawn’s voice 
again, so great was his eagerness to hear the rest of 
the conversation ; but at last, in clear, distinct tones, 
so that no sentence was lost, he heard the gambler 
reading Beatrice’s letter. 

“Havana, Cuba, 1869. 

“ Our plans are now in danger of being discovered, since, 
through the jealousy of those who have acted with me, I am 
no longer supreme in the revolutionary party here. Can they 
suspect? I fear they mistrust that all is not right in America. 
The Government remains inactive as yet, and though Don 
Sebastian has heard rumors of your movements, he little 
dreams that he may wake some morning to find his troops 
beaten by the rebels. He has sent an English detective to learn 
your plans ; and should he escape the men I have set upon his 
track, and reach America to spy upon you, he must be got out of 
the way! You will know him as an elderly Englishman. He 
sails on the Storm King — the same vessel that will carry this 
letter to you. On the steamer with him will be two of my 
trusted Spanish agents ; one of whom, Gonzalo Carrasco, is the 
bearer of important papers to you, and whom you will know 
from the fact that he wears my signet ring as a passport to 
your confidence. After that you must hasten the departure of 
the filibusters for Cuba; delay can only lessen our chances of 
getting the reward offered by the proclamation at Madrid. It is 
whispered here in Havana, that, to him who first gives warning 
of the Cuban uprising, aud the sailing of the expedition from 
America, the government will tender the office of Governor- 
General. That, then, shall be for me; while you, madame, shall 
keep the money to queen it where you please. Remain faithful 
to our compact — act discreetly — and keep me informed of 
every move you make. 

“Ai/varez del Marco.” 

Though couched in language meant to convey no 
adequate idea of what the previously arranged plans 
of these two persons were, the letter that Brawn had 


154 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


gained possession of, and which he had laboriously 
translated into the less musical Saxon tongue, clear- 
ly indicated that Madame de Bouville had entered 
into a conspiracy with Senor del Marco, whose lust 
for office far outweighed his loyalty to the Cuban 
cause, by which she bound herself to betray the fili- 
busters and thus reap a harvest from the royal coffer. 

“ Egad ! but I never dreamed of this ! ” muttered 
the detective. “Not content with feathering her 
nest on this side the water, she is scheming to betray 
the filibusters for Spanish gold ; and this very night, 
if my information is correct, she will urge upon the 
patriots the advisability of embarking their little 
army — a horde of half-drilled mercenaries, and a 
few hot-headed, glory-blinded Cubans — at the ear- 
liest date possible to fix upon. A clever piece of 
deviltry, I must confess ; but it shall not be the 
means of sacrificing these filibusters after all. Poor 
fellows ! they little think a baptism of fire awaits 
them on the shores of Cuba ; for, apprised of their 
coming, the Spanish fleet would environ their vessels 
and literally butcher them in sight of the land they 
have sworn to free.” 

The discovery of the letter left Madame Beatrice 
no choice but to acknowledge that Brawn was in a 
position to work her ruin, if she remained at cross 
purposes with him. He was smiling at the com- 
pleteness of his victory over her, and emboldened 
by his success, he drew her to him affectionately and 
without a murmur. 

“You see, Beatrice,” he continued, “ that fate 
has given me the upper-hand. I see very clearly the 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


155 


game you and this Alvarez del Marco are playing ; 
but unless you promise to marry me, and share the 
reward you hope to receive, I swear by the gods 
that I will drive you forth hunted like a fugitive 
slave.” 

“ Would you add the cruelty of a slave-drive to 
your other crimes, Roderick Brawn?” she asked. 
“ For there are deeds you have done that merit the 
name of crimes.” 

“ There is nothing I would stop at, Beatrice, to 
make you mine. Since first I saw you I have loved 
you blindly — madly, I may say; and in return, you 
have laughed at what you call my presumption in 
wishing to marry you. It was not so until Fernan- 
dez came back to America. Since he is come, you 
find his society more agreeable than mine. It is he 
whom you are closeted with while the real leaders in 
this wild scheme for liberty, and the very men you 
profess to serve, are forced to await your pleasure. 
He was secretly admitted to the masquerade given 
by your friends on Beacon Hill ; denial is useless, 
for I followed and saw him enter. He was here the 
next night, and you would see no one but him ; the 
following day I saw you together at lunch in a quiet, 
out-of-the-way place near his hotel. And so it has 
been ever since ; no time to see anybody but Juan — 
unless it is the Englishman, and he, I am convinced, 
is not a fish for your net, since he is too cunning to 
be caught.” 

“No; but through me he has been very profit- 
able to you, no doubt. He always plays at the 
tables, I notice ; and why need it concern you if I 


156 


SAVED BY THE SWOBD. 


have an engagement with him now, so long as it 
serves to bring him here ? ” 

“I find no fault with you because of that,” he 
answered. “It is against your intimacy with the 
Cuban that I protest. And as for my winnings 
from the drummer, you are either much mistaken, 
or else you wilfully imagine I am fleecing him of his 
money ; while the truth of the matter is, he is one 
of the luckiest men, and knows the cards as the 
scholar does his books. But once more for all, 
Beatrice, I ask you to marry me when you have 
carried out your plans with this traitor, Alvarez del 
Marco. Take time for your answer, and remember 
what depends upon it.” 

After a period of some hesitation, in which Brawn 
never took his eyes from her face, Madame de Bou- 
ville, like a woman who sees a ray of hope in the 
only course left her, advanced to his side and asked : 

“ Would you marry a woman who has not learned 
to love you ? 99 

“ Yes ; and teach her afterward.” 

“Then, Koderick Brawn, since you have me in 
your power, I will purchase your silence.” 

“And marry me like a sensible woman?” he added. 

“Yes; but on this condition: that you will not 
interfere with my plans,, nor seek to lessen my 
influence over Juan Fernandez until the day I 
become your wife.” 

“Well, I will not be unreasonable,” assented 
Brawn, “ as long as you do not play me false.” 
And then to himself, with a malicious smile, he 
added, “ If I do not seek a quarrel with this lover 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


157 


of yours, and teach him what it means to cross 
swords with me, I deserve to be the fool you take 
me for, my pretty Beatrice.” 

When Madame de Bouville was at liberty to see 
the gentleman she had expected, the servant 
informed her that he had called, but was unable to 
wait any longer. Then she made haste to depart, 
and an hour later was keeping an appointment with 
a fashionable modiste , where she regained her 
wonted composure, while the pretty little dress- 
maker went into raptures over madame’s graceful 
draperies. 

“ There was no other way,” Beatrice mused on 
her homeward journey, 4 4 but to promise to marry 
him. He holds that letter as a menace to all my 
hopes. But since he thinks it is Juan whom I love, 
I will find a way to rid me of his company if my 
plans work well. Oh, no, Roderick Brawn, you 
have not triumphed yet, though fate has indeed 
placed me in your power ! ” 

From Cosmos Park, after he had learned such un- 
expected news, the Englishman took his way to the 
nearest telegraph station and sent a cablegram to 
Don Sebastian at Havana. It was in the nature of 
a cypher dispatch, and to the operator it seemed a 
meaningless jargon of Spanish words. But as the 
detective watched the man at the key, he spelled out 
the message in the mysterious alphabet of telegraphy, 
and, interpreting the cypher as it would be under- 
stood at Moro Castle, fancied he heard the busy lit- 
tle instrument in front of the operator telling the 
story to its mate far over the sea : — 


158 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


“ Expect news of the filibusters’ sailing at any day. They 
cannot leave America without my kuowledge. Meanwhile 
arrest one Alvarez del Marco ; he is a traitor to their cause, and 
is plotting to gain wealth and position from the Spanish Gov- 
ernment.” 

Then, with a final click, the instrument suddenly 
became dumb ; and he knew his message was speed- 
ing southward, flashing over the wires with lightning 
haste, to begin at Key West its long journey to the 
palm island. 

“ That will serve as the prelude to what will come 
later,” he mused while on the way to his hotel. “ It 
will also tell Don Sebastian that I have lost no time 
in getting at the bottom of this business. He will 
arrest the traitor, and thus the news that their plot 
is discovered must soon reach the Cuban leaders 
here. It is the best I can do for them, and if they 
persist in leaving America after this warning, they 
will do so only to meet the Spaniards in unequal bat- 
tle. My next move shall be to interview the mur- 
derer Gonzalo Carrasco ; with him in my power, to 
bring Madame Beatrice to terms, I can safely enter 
upon the task of breaking the evil influence she 
seems to exercise here.” 

The detective next day met the hunchback as 
agreed upon, and afterward confronted the Barlows 
and their prisoner, to what purpose, and with what 
success, will be seen in the progress of events to 
come. 


CHAPTER Yin. 


“ O angel night, thy dewy wing 
Enfolds the spirit’s dream, 

And to the fevered heart you bring 
A balm from Kedron’s stream.” 

— Drifting Songs. 



the afternoon Clifford Reinhardt 
learned that his wife’s old lover, 
Juan the Cuban, had returned to 
America, and was even then in 
the same city with himself, there 
occurred a stormy interview be- 
tween two of the people who 
have figured prominently in these 
pages. The broker had gone 
directly home to openly charge 
i ■ Madeline with having admitted 

' Juan to the masquerade in defi- 

ance of what she knew to be his express desire. 
But whatever else his jealousy prompted him to 
charge her with, or however base were his hastily 
formed opinions, and however reasonable it seemed 
to him that he should think as he did, the purity of 
her motives could not by any subtility of reasoning 
be successfully impeached ; nor was there anything 
in her conduct at the ball to sustain the unjust sus- 


160 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


picions entertained toward her. But the storm so 
long brewing had reached a culminating point, and 
its lowering clouds were soon to burst upon these 
victims of a common folly. 

The broker’s first move on reaching home was to 
seek his wife, for the purpose of acquainting her 
with what he had discovered, and learning from her 
own lips if it was the Cuban whom she had shielded 
at the masquerade. He was in a frame of mind 
bordering on frenzy, for it must be remembered 
that Reinhardt was a proud, sensitive man, and 
shrank from the thought of dragging an honored 
name into the divorce court ; while on the other 
hand, should his suspicions prove to be founded in 
fact, a stern sense of justice demanded some such 
course as this. 

Three days had now passed since Madeline and 
Clifford had spoken to one another, and they were 
days of misery and suspense to both. He, as we 
know, had spent much of his time away from home, 
and after the manner of men had sought to forget 
his trouble amid the clinking of glasses, where con- 
gregated the merry fellows of his club ; while she, 
womanlike, indulged in headaches and occasional 
fits of crying, relieved by sudden bursts of temper 
that served to sustain her courage and nerve her for 
the meeting that was to come. 

In these hours of isolation and heartache Made- 
line found new happiness in her baby’s smiles, and 
nurse Margaret, with a world of wisdom in her 
quiet gray eyes, would bring little Clifford, and lay 
him in his mother’s arms, then withdraw on some 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


161 


slight pretext, while Madeline cooed to her baby, 
and covered the tiny mouth with kisses. 

“I can trust your friendship, Margaret,” said 
her mistress suddenly this morning, when the nurse 
had brought her in a dainty breakfast. “You are 
always kind to me, and more like a mother.” 

“ It’s because I love you, ma’am — and besides, 
if you will let me say it, because you don’t seem to 
be very happy. You see I can’t help knowing how 
things are between you and Mr. Reinhardt. Now, 
these two days you haven’t stirred out of your 
room ; and he hasn’t been near to ask how you 
were, but goes off early in the morning, and stays 
till late at night.” 

“Very true, nurse; he is angry with me about 
something that happened at the ball. It will all 
come right by-and-by, when he asks me to explain 
my conduct. But I am so weary of this way of 
living. The suspense is dreadful, and sometimes I 
wonder how it all will end. Margaret, do you be- 
lieve in dreams? I mean, do you think they ever 
come true ? ” 

“ Why, yes ; sometimes they do. I know I have 
had many a dream, ma’am, that was a true one.” 

“And were you always happy afterward?” Mad- 
eline’s manner was almost childlike in its simplicity 
as she asked this question. “ I wish you would 
humor me, nurse, for I am going to tell you my 
dream.” 

“Ah, they were not always happy dreams — the 
ones that came true,” Margaret answered sadly. 
“But God knows best, He sends us dreams, I 


162 


, SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


sometimes think, to teach us to be good, and kind, 
and patient.” 

“You talk so sober, I’m afraid you’ll laugh at 
what I’m going to tell you.” 

“ No indeed, ma’am. I was only thinking of my 
little one that died. Now let me hold baby, while 
you finish your tea and toast, and I’ll listen to your 
dream.” 

“Well, last night I dreamed that I had Dapple 
saddled, and rode over to see sister Edith, leaving 
baby here with you — just as you are sitting now 
— with him dancing in your arms. Wasn’t it queer 
that I should see you both so plainly ? But the 
best of the dream is to come. I thought my hus- 
band was waiting for me when I came back, and I 
went to him just as I was, and asked him to forgive 
me. And Clifford just — ” 

“Just took you in his arms and kissed you,” 
chuckled her listener, giving the baby a toss in the 
air. 

“ How did you know, nurse ? ” 

“ Oh, I have had fallings out with my man,” said 
honest Margaret, dropping a tear to her husband’s 
memory, “ and that’s how we always made up.” 

“ Well, that’s just what Clifford did,” replied 
Madeline, with a happy light .in her eyes. “ But, 
after all,” she said with a sigh, “ it was only a dream, 
Margaret.” 

“ Yes, I know — but it will come true, if you do 
just as you dreamed of doing. Now, if you feel 
able to ride Dapple, take a breath of air this after- 
noon ; it’ll do you good this beautiful spring day. 


SAVED BY THE SWOKD. 


163 


But be sure and go through everything just as you 
did in your dream ; then it'll come out right, I know 
it will.” 

“ Well, your advice is very sensible,” she replied, 
“ and I will let Thomas saddle my horse after din- 
ner. A ride of a mile or two will put me in better 
spirits, if nothing else comes of it. And, now I 
think of it, Edith is sixteen to-day, and with Harry 
away at college it will be a lonesome birthday.” 

Madeline was a graceful horsewoman, and one 
thoroughly at home in the saddle, and this afternoon 
in May, as she rode down the hill, and set off on a 
canter along the river road, many an eye followed 
Dapple and his beautiful mistress. The temptation 
to ride out to Long wood was very great, since the 
weather was delightful, and the sense of womanly 
freedom Madeline experienced made her light- 
hearted, and well-nigh oblivious of all trouble ; but 
she thought of sister Edith spending the afternoon 
alone, or perhaps in the dull company of Aunt Mait- 
land, and suddenly checking her horse with a firm 
rein, she turned and galloped off toward the dear 
old home where the happiest years of her life were 
spent. A mischievous light was in her dark eyes, 
and she was more like the Madeline of old than she 
had been for many a day. Edith would not expect 
to see her at this time ; and so, as a pleasant sur- 
prise, she meant to dismount Dapple in the lane, 
sweep in upon the little household, and capture her 
aunt and sister by strategy. 

So admirably was this plan carried out, that she 
gained the house unperceived ; and being quietly 


164 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


admitted by a servant, without arousing the atten- 
tion of others, Madeline gathered up her trailing 
habit, and noiselessly approached in the direction of 
her sister’s voice. She heard Edith singing an old 
ballad she had taught her long ago — one she her- 
self had sung so many, many times, because it was 
somebody’s favorite — to the accompaniment of her 
guitar. The playing of this instrument Edith had 
also acquired from Madeline during their hours 
together ; and though her proficiency was in no de- 
gree brilliant, it gave her a certain prestige as a 
musician among her friends, while the pleasure 
derived from the accomplishment was its own 
reward. 

But as Madeline listened at the door the music 
ceased, or rather it seemed to die away in low, 
tremulous tones. Then a master-hand swept the 
still quivering strings of the guitar, and she was 
startled at the gay Spanish air suddenly invoked by 
the player, for it had such a familiar sound, and 
seemed to be drawing her back to the past and its 
memories. With strange interest in the scene, she 
looked in upon the group in the room. Aunt Mait- 
land, her busy hands plying the needles incessantly, 
was knitting by the window, and near the young 
girl, whose attention was taken up in watching the 
player’s fingers, sat Juan the Cuban, looking in- 
tently at pretty Edith while he played. 

“ Your song has made me think of the old airs,” 
said the Cuban, at length. “And now, little sister, 
I will sing for you.” He had always called her his 
little sister during his student days. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


165 


He sang to them of starry heights, and beauty’s 
isles where songful streams were flowing, to the low, 
half-plaintive music of his guitar, and in rhythmical 
cadence told the story of a refugee who, lamenting 
the loss of some ideal, found a solace in strains 
supernal that recalled the past, till the singer’s voice 
trembled with emotion. The entrance of Madeline, 
at a moment when the attention was fixed upon 
Juan, was not perceived by either of the others, 
and she drew back into the shadow to listen to the 
song. 


EURYLEE. 

O’er the desert sands of duty, 

Eurylee, 

Hope allures to isles of beauty, 
Eurylee ! 

Where her starry heights are glowing, 

And the streams of song are flowing, 

There is bliss beyond our knowing, 
Eurylee ! 

And from realms of love eternal, 
Eurylee, 

Sweet, seraphic strains supernal, 
Eurylee ! 

O’er the wearied spirit breaking, 

Bear a balm to soothe its aching, 

Thoughts of hours with thee awaking, 
Eurylee ! 

Thou art lost to me forever, 

Eurylee, 

For the seas of fate dissever, 

Eurylee ! 

But thy memory, o’er me stealing, 

Harps upon the strings of feeling, 

Joy’s elusive isles revealing, 

Eurylee ! 


166 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


“ Oh, Madge ! you darling ! ” was Edith’s cry of 
recognition, for she had discovered Madeline and 
was leading her toward the Cuban. “ I am so glad 
you’ve come. This is our old friend Juan, and he 
has been singing to us ; just as he used to when you 
and — ” 

“ I have had the pleasure of hearing Sehor Fer- 
nandez sing,” Mrs. Reinhardt interrupted, seeing 
at once that her sister was approaching dangerous 
ground. 

“ Thanks, senora,” the Cuban gravely replied. 
“ It has been a long time since you heard me sing, 
has it not, senora? ” 

“ Yes ; a very longtime, indeed. I had no thought 
of meeting you, when I started to surprise auntie 
and Edith ; so you see the pleasure is quite unex- 
pected 

“ And had you known I was here,” the Cuban 
asked when, after an hour spent together, he was 
slowly conducting Mrs. Reinhardt to her horse in 
the lane, “ would you have come to me, Madelina?” 

“No, Juan,” she replied. “ Our paths must lead 
in different ways. There is no need to tell you why, 
since my husband’s dislike is such that open friend- 
ship between us is impossible. Could you know the 
sorrow caused by my thoughtless conduct at the ball 
— the isolation and silence I have borne — the 
cloud of suspicion resting over me, your manhood 
would forbid that you ever again compromise a 
woman’s honor.” 

‘ ‘ Let me atone with life itself, senora ! I would 
make you happy — a queen among women — in a 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


167 


land of tropical beauty. Madelina, could not 
love — ” 

“Speak not of love — ’tis profanation!” she 
interrupted, with a superb gesture that silenced 
him. “You forget there is a gulf between us that 
is impassable.” 

The Cuban’s chivalrous nature was deeply touched, 
for until then he had not realized the enormity of his 
offence, so blinded had he been by Madame de Bou- 
ville’s reports since the night of the masquerade, 
telling him of Madeline’s indifference to her husband, 
and picturing to his love-crazed brain the possibilu 
ties of an elopement with the broker’s wife. He 
saw in such a step the consummation of all his 
dreams of happiness. The woman he loved would 
thus break the fetters that bound her to another ; a 
divorce would follow their departure for Cuba ; and 
when the war was over, the battles fought and free- 
dom gained, there would be no legal impediment to 
their marriage. But now, unsustained by his evil 
genius, and in the presence of the woman whose 
ruin Madame Beatrice had so basely plotted, he felt 
unequal to the part he was expected to play. 

“I am indeed a villian,” he answered. “But 
love, that does not think of consequences, is my 
only plea for pardon. For days together, after 
reaching the city, I had watched for you to leave the 
house. In the hurrying crowd, at the theater, 
whither fancy led me, I searched for your face in 
vain. I even stole into your home one stormy 
night, heedless of what might happen, that I might 
hear your voice again ! Then came the masquerade 


168 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


— a desperate chance to reach your side ; but since 
it was my only hope, I chose the character of Fra 
Diavolo — and the rest you know.” 

“And I, in my weakness, forgot the duty a wife 
owes her husband. I allowed you to stay, when I 
should have exposed you to him ! But now we will 
not part in anger.” The Cuban had assisted her 
into the saddle, and stood stroking Dapple’s flowing 
mane. “ Only promise to forget me, Juan, or think 
of me as if I were dead ! ” 

Tears were in her eyes as she reached out her 
gloved hand in token of farewell. The Cuban 
raised it to his lips in silence, for his thoughts were 
far away. He heard the deep roll of musketry, the 
clashing of sabers, a bugle’s victorious peal high 
above the din of battle ; and in that momentary 
trance the soul of a hero looked forth from his eyes, 
for he was a soldier, pure-hearted and brave, who 
led his countrymen on to victory ! The soft allure- 
ments of love, the light of beauty’s glance, no longer 
held him in thrall ; but a new strength, a nobler im- 
pulse for the future, made him a better and a braver 
man. 

“It is well, senora ; it is well. You have shown 
me my duty, and I obey ; the destiny of a Cuban 
must henceforth be mine. This night I shall leave 
America — perhaps forever; for some must die, and 
I may be among the first to fill a patriot’s grave. If, 
when memory recalls the past, you bestow a thought 
upon Juan, think of him as one who loved you with 
a love as pure as ever man has known. And should 
you need my friendship, Madelina, to shield you 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


169 


against Senor Reinhardt’s suspicions, I beg that you 
will not deny me one last request. On this card 
you will find my address in Havana ; take it, Made- 
lina, and do not forget.” 

“ I accept your friendship,” she answered, taking 
the card. “And now I must return.” 

“Farewell, Madelina, since it must be so,” the 
Cuban said, as she gfently withdrew her hand. 
Then he watched her out of sight, and after a brief 
parting with Edith and Aunt Maitland, he followed 
on in thoughtful silence. 

# # * 

It was the hour of sunset and a time for reverie, 
when Madeline rode back to Beacon Hill, after her 
parting with Fernandez. Her thoughts, instead of 
taking a backward turn, ran on before, and antici- 
pated the meeting with her husband ; and if she 
were asked how glowed the colors in the western 
sky, or whether the evening gave promise of a fair 
to-morrow, in all truth she might have said the 
outer world was lost to view, and that the sagacity 
of Dapple, rather than her own guidance of that 
pretty animal, had brought her safely home. 

“ So you had a nice time,” said nurse Margaret, 
while smoothing out the folds of the riding habit. 
“And I hope you’ve done everything you saw in 
the dream ? ” 

“Yes; very nearly,” her mistress replied. “I 
found Edith and auntie at home, and I enjoyed the 
ride on Dapple. But do you know if Mr. Reinhardt 
has come yet ? ” 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. He came not long 


170 


SAVED BY THE SWOKD. 


ago, and after learning where you had gone, he said 
I needn’t trouble myself to give you any message, 
because he was going over to your father’s.” 

“ Perhaps he went a different way. I wonder 
what he could want with me in such haste. Did he 
seem like himself, Margaret ; or was his manner like 
that of a man who is very angry ? ” 

“ He did appear to be angry, ma’am — a little bit 
excited by something, I should say. But lor’, 
ma’am, that’s just how my man would act when we 
had fallings out ! So don’t worry yourself about 
what he wanted, for it’ll come right in time. You 
must be almost famished after galloping in the wind, 
though ; so if you’ll mind baby a minute, I’ll run 
down and order something for you.” 

“ I cannot eat — at least not now, Margaret ; but 
if you will, you may get me a cup of tea, and make 
it good and strong.” 

In a few minutes the nurse returned, bringing the 
information that the broker had just come, and from 
all appearances he was not in a sweet-tempered 
mood, for he had kicked a beggar off the steps and 
called the servants a parcel of idle louts. “ But lor’, 
ma’am,” she added in a confidential tone, “ my man 
was always the maddest just before he’d give in.” 
Even this bit of practical wisdom, however, did not 
dispel the misgivings Madeline felt in consequence 
of her husband’s strange conduct, and she instinc- 
tively nerved herself for what she believed would 
be a stormy meeting. 

Meanwhile, though unknown to her, the broker 
had received a visitor in his study in the person of 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


171 


his father-in-law, Gregory Maitland. The merchant, 
on reaching home, was informed that Reinhardt had 
been there only a short while before, and in an 
excited manner demanded to know where his wife 
was. And being told she had started homeward, he 
turned without a word and left the house. All this 
was cause for alarm in Aunt Maitland’s mind, and, in 
order to stop the torrent of questions put by her 
brother as to what had occurred during the afternoon, 
she told the circumstance of the Cuban’s call on 
Edith, and remarked that it was singularly unfortu- 
nate that Madeline should have met him there. 
Then Maitland, who divined something of what the 
trouble might be, started post-haste to investigate 
the matter in an interview with his son-in-law. 

“ Go on with your story,” said the merchant 
sternly. “ I can only hope that you are laboring 
under some hallucination.” 

“ Would to God it were so ! ” the broker continued. 
“Is it hallucination to see your wife happy in the 
arms of another, while her husband’s existence, and 
the sacred ties of motherhood, are sacrificed to the 
pleasure of a former lover? No, no, Maitland! 
This is no wild fancy of the brain; it is truth — 
stern, unalterable truth ! If, in some hallucination, 
a man can be dealt a blow that stuns him and leaves 
its mark, then call it by what name you will ! ” 

Reinhardt, becoming somewhat composed, then 
detailed the story of the masquerade, and the con- 
firmation of suspicions through a chance meeting 
with the Cuban, supplemented by the discovery that 
his wife had that afternoon met Fernandez. 


172 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


The entrance of Mrs. Reinhardt served to break 
the embarrassing silence that fell upon the two men. 
She started back in surprise at sight of her father, 
and something in his manner — a mixture of anger 
and humiliation — seemed to repel her first impulse to 
reach his side. On her husband’s face she saw only 
the workings of a passionate nature ; no sign of 
welcome, no manifestation of pleasure that she had 
come. Like some hunted creature suddenly brought 
to bay by its pursuers, she stood before them in 
proud defiance, looking more beautiful than ever 
in her flowing robe of cardinal, with hands tightly 
clinched, and her great dark eyes lit with soulful 
eloquence. 

“Unhappy child!” cried her father, “ if you 
have hearkened to the charge made against you, 
answer me if it be true or no. Was it Juan Fer- 
nandez whom you let remain in your husband’s house 
to poison all his happiness ? ” 

“Am I brought to judgment,” she demanded. 
“And are you my inquisitors?” 

“Yes — and the God who now looks down upon 
you!” the broker thundered in reply. “If you 
are guilty may He forgive you, for I cannot ! ” 

“ Do not add to the burden of her sorrow,” said 
Maitland with quivering lip, for Madeline had impul- 
sively thrown herself at her husband’s feet and was 
pleading for condonement of her offense. The ter- 
rible significance of his speech, uttered with the ear- 
nestness of a man who has weighed the precise value 
of every word, had terrorized her heart, and she 
was affrighted at the violence of his temper. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


173 


“ The burden is of her own making, and she shall 
bear it ! ” he angrily retorted. “ Look at your im- 
perious daughter now — humbled to the dust by her 
own folly ! What more abject confession of guilt 
were possible ? ” 

“ Oh, husband! Clifford, have pity and hear me 
speak,” implored his wife. “ It was such a little 
sin — and the penalty is so hard, so cruel ! If you 
will but listen to me I can explain it all, for I swear — ” 

“Add not perjury to your soul’s false seeming ! ” 
the broker interrupted. “ My eyes have been the 
witness of a wife’s disloyalty, and your own lips have 
condemned you ! ” 

“For the sake of our child — your own little Clif- 
ford,” cried Madeline, in her despair, “ I entreat — ” 

“Entreaty is in vain,” he answered, “and I will 
hear no more. My heart has turned against you, 
and cries out for a vindication of its wrongs. If 
there is justice in the law, it shall be mine ! ” 

With these heartless words upon his lips Clifford _ 
Reinhardt strode from the room, leaving Madeline 
weeping in her father’s arms. Every plea had 
failed; the die was cast; her dream, alas, had not 
come true ! 

“ Do you think, father,” she asked between her 
sobs, “ he will carry out his terrible threat?” 

“ I fear so, my child,” said the old merchant, in 
a broken voice. “And the thought that I, your 
father, who hoped to make you so happy, am to 
blame for this, overwhelms me with a sense of my 
own wickedness. Ah ! but I thought you would 
learn to love him when you knew your own heart.” 


174 


SAVED BY THE SWOKD. 


“Father, you could not know,” was her reply. 
“And yet, strange as you may think my words, 1 
have learned to love him , when it is too late! You 
heard him say that he has turned against me ; that 
he will make me sign away all right to bear his 
name. What then remains for me, but to give him 
back blow for blow? He shall know that I have 
loved him , and in that knowledge, I hope and pray, 
he will find as keen a misery as I now suffer. He 
shall learn that love and hate are alternate passions 
in a woman’s soul ! ” 

“Be sensible, Madeline, and hope for the best. 
He is beside himself with passion now ; so do not 
seek to encounter him again until the morrow. In 
the morning 1 will reason with him, for then he shall 
be made to realize that, with all your faults, he is 
doing you a great wrong.” 

Then Madeline sought and found an asylum for 
her grief on nurse Margaret’s motherly bosom, and 
to her she poured out the story of her sorrow, re- 
ceiving in return a generous sympathy and love. 

“ I cannot stay here any longer,” she said to 
Margaret. “The very walls seem to whisper that 
terrible word, ‘ Divorce ! ’ and they will drive me 
to it. If I go they cannot force me to sign away 
my rights, nor give up my baby to another’s keep- 
ing; and oh, nurse, if I should never come back 
here any more — if any thing should happen — 
always be the friend to me that you have been, and 
teach my boy to love the memory of his unhappy 
mother ! Promise me that you will, Margaret.” 

And Margaret, overcome by the situation, burst 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


175 


into tears and was ready to promise anything ; but 
like the sensible woman that she was, the nurse saw 
how ill-advised such a course would be, and after 
expostulating with her young mistress till bed-time 
came, she retired for the night convinced that wise 
counsel had for once prevailed. 

But the state of Mrs. Beinhardt’s mind was such 
that no argument of the case, however plainly put, 
could shake the determination to leave her husband 
before he found an opportunity to carry out his 
threat. The more she pondered over the consequen- 
ces of such a step, the deeper became her infatuation 
with the idea. And at last, as the old tower-clock 
at the foot of the hill was striking the hour, she 
started up from her reverie and made hasty prepa- 
rations for flight. 

Having stolen in and kissed little Clifford once 
© 

again, Madeline left the house unperceived and 
turned her face resolutely from the scene of so much 
unhappiness. Out under the silent stars, alone in a 
great city, the temptation to return played upon her 
fears at times ; but she kept on in an aimless way, 
and having some vague, dimly-defined notion that 
the east-bound train would leave for Portland before 
midnight, she finally decided to take refuge in the 
old seaport city she had not visited since she was a 
child. The funds she had were sufficient for any 
emergency of the present, and when these gave out 
the sale of her jewels, which she had the presence of 
mind to include among the few articles carried in her 
reticule, would suffice to supply her with money for 
a time. Beyond this contingency she had no thought 


176 


x SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


of the future, but left all to the blind happening of 
chance, for what could she know of the actualities 
of life? 

Upon her table at home, where Margaret’s eye 
would fall upon it in the morning, she had left a 
hastily-penned letter to her husband, and this the 
broker read with a groan of anguish, for its few 
brief sentences — disconnected in their meaning and 
blotted with tears — told of the writer’s irresponsible 
state of mind at the time it was written. 

“ That does not sound like a woman who is guilty 
of the charge you make,” Reinhardt’s lawyer said 
when he had read Madeline’s letter. “ It has an 
undercurrent of goodness in it that much inclines 
me in your wife’s favor. Now, isn’t it barely pos- 
sible — yet unintentional, of course — that you are 
doing her a great wrong? The history of these 
cases teaches me that in a moment of anger strange 
accusations, unwarrantable in fact, jeopardize the 
happiness of a family.” 

“ It may be that I have acted too hastily in this 
matter,” replied his client. “ Things look different 
this morning, and — I confess it with shame — I 
would not listen to her when she came to me last 
night. But tell me what is to be done? I must 
know more than this, even if the knowledge kills 
me ! ” 

“ The first step,” said the lawyer, quite matter of 
fact, 4 ‘is to trace- her from your house last night. 
That is properly the business of a detective, and 
with your permission I will have an officer detailed 
for the case — only it may be necessary to give him 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


177 


access to your wife’s apartments in searching for a 
clew.” 

“I interpose no objections, remember, to any- 
thing you think best. Send your man at once, and 
I will be there to meet him.” 

The hours sped on, and it was late in the day 
when the Hon. Tomson Wilford, the great divorce 
lawyer, looking up from the preparation of an elab- 
orate argument, met the gaze of a stranger who 
had quietly entered his private office. He arose in 
a fit of petty anger at the entrance of this dignified 
personage, who had the ruddy color of a sleek, well- 
fed dominie in his face, with clerical garb and gray- 
ish-brown whiskers, and the spirit of good-nature 
lurking in his affable smile. But even the lawyer’s 
respect for the cloth did not restrain him from a 
hearty rebuke of his visitor’s violation bf an inflex- 
ible rule. 

44 Confound it, sir!” he began, 44 you take an 
unwarrantable liberty in this intrusion. You should 
have sent in your card by the boy.” 

“It is no fault of the lad, I assure you,” was 
the pacific reply. 44 He insisted on taking my card.” 

44 Then why the devil” — the blunt, outspoken 
lawyer began. 44 I mean, why the deuce — oh, 
damn it, I’m only making a bad matter worse ! I 
beg your pardon, sir; but your abrupt entrance 
establishes a precedent that does not please me.” 

44 So I perceive by your manner,” replied his vis- 
itor, in rare good-humor. 44 What you wish to 
know is, perhaps, why the devil I didn’t give the 
lad my card, when he asked for it.” 


178 


v SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


“Your intuition does you credit,” returned the 
lawyer. “ That is precisely as I would have ex- 
pressed myself.” 

“ My excuse is, that I yielded to a whim in wish- 
ing to present it in person,” continued the visitor. 
“And, if you will allow me, my card, sir.” He 
then handed to the amazed Mr. Wilford a card on 
which was written in a round, legible hand, “ Bishop 
of Campobello.” 

“Ah, — um, — yes,” stammered the lawyer. “I 
had no idea I was addressing a bishop, though of 
course I surmised you belonged to the church ; but 
a bishop — really, your Grace, I owe you a thou- 
sand apologies.” 

“ Tut, tut,” said his visitor, with a wave of the 
hand, “one will suffice, my dear sir. To be sure 
my reception was not over cordial — but perhaps I 
overstepped the bounds of hospitality ; and in re- 
turn for your amende honorable , since it will help 
us to an understanding of this visit, I will say that 
the character of a bishop suits me equally as well as 
the last I assumed — which, by the way, was that of 
a drummer ! ” 

“Your language, while it amuses me, is slightly 
enigmatical,” the lawyer replied, with a puzzled air. 

“ May I ask if you were expecting any one from 
the detective bureau?” was the bland inquiry. 

A hearty laugh was the lawyer’s only answer for 
a minute, while the stranger seemed to catch the 
infection, for he chuckled softly to himself at the 
success of his make-up, which had been so true to 
life that he was able to deceive this keenest of advo- 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


179 


cates, who now went into a paroxysm of laughter 
as the detective’s strategy dawned upon him. 

“Admirable! — admirable, indeed,” the lawyer 
assured him when he had regained his wonted com- 
posure. “ But now to business,” he continued, 
having examined the credentials handed him by the 
detective. “And since you are to be a bishop, I 
am curious to know where lies the bishopric of 
Campobello.” 

“ That, also, is a chimera, so far as I have any 
knowledge of Campobello. It may be in the Pa- 
cific Ocean for all I know to the contrary. The 
truth is, I am an Englishman, and have not been 
long enough in America to get used to the geogra- 
phy of the country. I saw the name in print, and 
for the short time I shall need the title, the Bishop 
of Campobello will suit me as well as any other. 
You, of course, will know me as Wyckliff Ried, of 
the London agency ; but until the mystery shroud- 
ing Mrs. Reinhardt is cleared up, and her guilt or 
innocence made manifest, I shall assume the bishop’s 
tenure of office with that end in view.” 

“I confess I like your cleverness — but how is 
it possible for you, a stranger, to do this thing 
successfully ? ” 

“ That you shall see. Iam not such a stranger 
in your city as you may think. Important events 
are transpiring here with wliich I am familiar, and 
which, I may add, explain my being in America at 
this time. You will be surprised to learn that one 
who figures prominently in the matters I have un- 
earthed is an inmate of your client’s house ; yet 
12 


180 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


such is the fact, as I know it to be. I chanced to 
be in consultation with the chief of police when 
your message arrived, and seeing at once my oppor- 
tunity, at my own request he has assigned the case 
to me. Now, the only help I ask is to be estab- 
lished for a few days as the guest of Clifford Rein- 
hardt ; that you can bring about in an interview 
with him. But none of the broker’s family must 
learn of my true character, for, unless my judgment 
greatly errs, it is with foes within we have to deal.” 

“You astonish me,” said the lawyer, when the 
detective had finished. “But I will assist you to 
my best ability ; and if you remain here until my 
client can be summoned I will arrange matters with 
him.” 

This being easily accomplished, 'VVycklifF Ried, 
whom we have known under another alias, was that 
evening presented on Beacon Hill as his Grace the 
Bishop of Campobello, and the reverend guest, in 
the most unobtrusive way, began his surveillance of 
Madame de Bouville and the household in general. 

* * * * * * 

The departure of Mrs. Reinhardt not having been 
discovered until the next morning, her whereabouts 
at this time, in spite of the search instituted by the 
police, remained a mystery to all. No human eye 
had watched this unhappy woman in her flight from 
home, and so there was no definite clue to guide her 
pursuers ; but had they known the precise direction 
she had taken, and even followed her subsequent 
movements until they became lost in the throng that 
jostled her in their rude haste at the railway station, 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


181 


from that point onward the clue must have grown 
less certain and eventually been lost altogether. 

Here she stood with senses bewildered, for the 
train had gone and it would be hours before another 
would come thundering over the rails. By that 
time, she feared her father would learn of her flight 
and spare no means to bring her back ; and then the 
thought of what the future held in store should she 
return — that cold, formal meeting in which she 
would be made to impassively surrender up her 
child, and thus avoid the publicity of divorce pro- 
ceedings in the courts — impelled her to go out into 
the night again a wanderer and a fugitive. 

“Madelina! is it you, away from home so late 
and alone ? ” The human sympathy of the voice 
thrilled her as she turned to find the Cuban at her 
side. He had alighted from his carriage, having 
recognized her as she stood in uncertainty beneath 
the gaslight, and approached to learn the reason of 
her being there at that hour of the night. 

“ Yes, Juan, it is I,” she answered wearily. 
“ But, God pity me, I have no home now.” 

“ No home, no home,” he repeated after her in a 
bewildered way. “ Tell me what has happened, 
Madelina. Has he — your husband — has Senor 
Reinhardt dared — ” 

“ I know what you would say,” Madeline inter- 
rupted, as the Cuban hesitated in his speech. 
“ Yes, he has dared to think me false, and for that 
I hate him ! ” 

“And for that you are leaving him, Madelina!” 
An eager light gleamed in the Cuban’s eyes as he 


182 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


waited for her answer. He saw within his grasp, 
by these strange workings of destiny, the woman 
he had mourned as lost to him forever. 

“Yes; I could not stay to be driven forth like 
some accursed thing ! They are leagued against me ; 
and should I go back now, they would gloat over 
my misery.” 

“ Then do not return ! ” cried Fernandez. “ Mad- 
elina,” he continued, drawing nearer and speaking 
in impassioned tones, “ I have never ceased to love 
you, though fate wed you to another. It was hard 
to give you to him ; but what had I, Juan the stu- 
dent, to offer in place of his riches? Nothing but 
the wild, hot passion of a Cuban’s heart. But now 
you are free ! — for has he not driven you to this? — 
while I am rich, senora, and will lavish love and 
fortune to make you happy.” 

“Do not mock me in my misery!” she cried. 
Her pale, sad face, set off by masses of beautiful 
hair, seemed to him fair as an angel’s as her eyes 
looked up to his appealingly. “ Happiness is not 
for me, Juan.” 

“ This night when turns the tide,” he continued, 
“a steamer will bear me back to Cuba — back to 
the dark-eyed senoritas of my native land. But I 
shall think of one across the sea — of you, Made- 
lina — and at the memory of this time my heart will 
call me coward ! But no ! I will be brave and take 
you with me. Madelina, come — it is our destiny ! ” 

“Oh, Juan, J uan ! ” she moaned. “And is it you 
who dare say this to me? You whom I thought so 
noble, so honorable in your manhood ! ” 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


183 


“ Did he think of honor,” the Cuban answered 
passionately, “when he gave to another the love 
which should be yours? Is it honor to keep this 
Madame Beatrice under his own roof ; to grant her 
every wish — no matter what it be — to place his 
carriage at her pleasure, and teach his servants to 
bow to her authority? Ah, I thought she lied when 
she told me it was she your husband loved ; but I 
did her injustice in my unbelief! ” 

“She — Madame de Bouville — told you this?” 
Madeline interrupted. “ Swear to me that you 
speak the truth ! ” 

The Cuban raised his hand, as if to call the saints 
to witness, and turned his eyes heavenward. He 
felt the full import of the oath he was about to 
take ; it meant much, very much, to him. 

“ By the memory of the mother who died in giv- 
ing me birth, I swear my words are true ! From 
madame’s own lips, and not from others, have I 
learned this secret.” 

“ It is enough ! ” she answered. “ Take me with 
you, Juan Fernandez — away from these false shores. 
No matter where, so that I never look upon his face 
again ! ” 

“At last, fate has given you to me ! ” the Cuban 
murmurs, as they stand together upon the Storm 
King’s deck. Before them lies the sea across 
which they are going; landward, the city of the 
Pilgrims, mantled by night’s soft-falling shades. 
Tall shapes of masts, and shadowy hulks, lay round 
about them ; the steamer rises and falls with each 
flow of the tide, and tugs at the straining hawsers 


184 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


that hold it at its moorings. Their thoughts seem 
treading the narrow pathway of the stars, and they 
grow silent and even sad. The tide’s mystic whis- 
perings become a monotone to their ears ; for like 
the voice of a friend, as the water rises from point 
to point, it utters a solemn warning of disaster. 
So the end draws near. Light answers light from 
beacons along the sea : the great ship seems instinct 
with life and motion : a little while, at midnight, 
and these meteors of science will flash a guiding 
intelligence toward the Antilles. 


CHAPTER IX. 


“ I was not born to shrink from idle threats, 

The cause of which I know not. At the hour 
Of council, be it soon or late, I shall not 
Be among the absent.” 

— Marino Faliero. 


Madame, permit me to com- 
pliment you on your fine ap- 
pearance,” said his Grace as Bea- 
trice entered with the broker’s 
mother. 

Some philosopher has told us 
that a woman enjoys the con- 
sciousness of being well dressed. 
So the statement that Madame 
de Bouville was fully conscious 
of this fact, and seemed corres- 
pondingly happy in the knowl- 
edge, will be received as a bit of information thor- 
oughly orthodox in character. Still, it did not need 
fine feathers to make fine birds in madame’s case ; her 
grand figure would lend a lissome grace to the plain- 
est garb a woman ever donned. 

The broker and his nominal guest, the Bishop of 
Campobello, were standing at a window in low con- 
versation w 7 hen Madame de Bouville entered. 

“ And you think that she has not left the city? ” 
the former was saying, though madame’s ear failed 
to understand the question. 



18G 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


“ I am not quite sure of that,” was the reply. 
“It is certain, however, your wife didn’t leave on 
any of the night trains, since not a train left in 
either direction without the knowledge of my asso- 
ciates.” 

“ Yet you say no clue has been discovered?” re- 
plied Reinhardt impatiently. “ Nothing to indicate 
the direction she went after leaving this house two 
nights ago ? ” 

Then turning to Madame de Bouville, whose en- 
trance at this time had cut short their conversation, 
the detective greeted her with the neat compliment 
which opens the chapter. 

‘ 4 Monsieur le Bishop is quick to notice,” madame 
gaily answered. “ But come, gentlemen,” she con- 
tinued, taking her place at the table, “ the dinner is 
getting cold while we are waiting.” 

“ I have no appetite,” said the broker, “ but I 
will join you at table.” Then aside to Beatrice : 
“ How does my mother bear up under the trouble, 
madame? She still refuses to think well of my 
poor wife, I suppose.” 

“Yes, Monsieur Clifford; she will not listen to 
anything in her favor ” — as if Beatrice, arch 
schemer against the absent Madeline, had uttered a 
syllable in favor of the young wife — “ but insists 
that she has forfeited every claim to her sympathy.” 

“Time alone will convince me of that,” replied 
Reinhardt sadly. 

A dinner under such circumstances could have lit- 
tle to interest the reader, were it not for the inci- 
dent which now forces itself upon our attention. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


187 


It was toward the close of the dinner, when the 
sudden advent of nurse Margaret in their midst, 
with something grasped very tightly in her hand, 
startled them over their dessert. Her excited man- 
ner — so different from the nurse’s usually quiet 
demeanor — brought the broker to his feet with the 
exclamation : — 

“What’s happened, Margaret? The child — has 
anything — is he ill?” 

“ I’ve found something in Mrs. Reinhardt’s room, 
sir,” was the reply, “ that may assist you in finding 
her ; and, sir, I hope you won’t mind my coming in 
as I did, for I couldn’t wait till morning ! ” 

“Make no excuses,” he answered, taking the card 
from her trembling fingers. “ You have only done 
right in coming to me.” 

He glanced at the bit of pasteboard in his hand 
with a cry of anger and disappointment. It con- 
tained the Cuban’s address, given by him to Made- 
line the afternoon they parted at her father’s house, 
and which had been dropped in her flight, to bear 
silent testimony now that she was gone. Madame 
de Bouville read the name and directions on the 
card with feelings of exultation that did not escape 
the bishop’s keen glance, which from the first had 
been fixed intently on her face. 

“My worst suspicions are now confirmed ! ” cried 
Reinhardt bitterly. “ She did not leave this house 
hastily and under a stress of passion, as I have 
tried to think, but in full knowledge as to where 
she was going, whom she was to meet, and what 
the end would be ! ” 


188 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


“Juan Fernandez sailed for Cuba the night she 
went to meet him,” said Beatrice, in triumph. “ If 
you would find your wife, monsieur, you must seek 
her beyond the sea ! ” 

“Follow them, and bring her back to the home 
she has disgraced?” Reinhardt cried, as with 
hysterical laughter he raised his glass on high. 
“Rather will I drink to my beautiful runaway; so 
fill up the glasses — fill them to the brim. I will 
give you a toast that will stir the sluggish blood !” 

The detective listened calmly to the broker’s 
anathema, and even smiled in a satisfied way. 
Events were hurrying on the denouement he had 
arranged with Margaret’s kindly assistance. He 
now had Madame de Bouville in the toils, for, with 
the cunning and patience of a spider, under cover 
of his clerical garb, Wyckliff Ried had been spin- 
ning a web to catch this pretty fly. When the jolly 
Bishop of Campobello, under whose guidance the 
flock of fisher-folk were supposed to browse con- 
tentedly upon the spiritual manna, yielded to mad- 
ame’s insinuating smile, and allowed her to carry 
him off for a tete-a-tete , it was always for the pur- 
pose of entangling her within the meshes. 

“Hold!” he said, as Reinhardt finished his im- 
passioned speech, and recklessly raised the wine to 
his lips. “ Before we drink that toast, I wish to 
propose another.” 

“And what shall it be, bishop?” asked the 
broker’s mother, surprised at the interruption on 
the part of their guest. 

“A parting health to Madame de Bouville,” he 


SATED BY THE SWORD. 


189 


continued. u To whose machinations is due the 
misery of this hour ! ” 

“The man is crazy, monsieur ! ” Beatrice inter- 
rupted, appealing to Reinhardt. Her face was pale 
with fear, but her voice was calm and firm. 

The broker looked from one to the other, at a 
loss to comprehend the situation. He slowly set 
his glass on the table, leaving the wine un tasted, 
and strode toward the detective, who had risen to 
his feet and seemed suddenly to be a man of com- 
manding mien. 

“Speak out, man — explain your meaning! 
What have you discovered that warrants this 
language ? ” 

“ That this woman is an imposter ! That you are 
being swindled by her connection with the filibus- 
ters ; and worse than this, that she has plotted with 
Juan Fernandez to make your wife an outcast ! (Do 
not interrupt me, madame, till I have finished.) It 
was she who admitted the Cuban to your house on 
the night of the ball ; it was she who bribed your 
wife’s maid, in order that Fernandez might know 
who Cleopatra was, and so compromise her by his 
presence. You have been her dupe, and trusted im- 
plicitly in the friendship of an adventuress — the 
confederate of the gambler Roderick Brawn, and 
plighted to him in marriage — a woman as cruel, as 
devoid of principle, as she is beautiful and fascina- 
ting in manner ! ” 

“My God!” — cried the broker, overcome by 
this sudden revelation, “ can this be true? ” 

“It is false, monsieur ! ” hissed Beatrice, spring- 


190 


SAVED BV THE SWORD. 


ing to her feet. “ This man is some spy the Span- 
iards have set upon my track, and I defy him to 
prove one word he has said ! ” 

All the tragic power and wonderful beauty of the 
woman was brought out at this moment, as she 
stood beneath the chandelier’s soft light, one plump 
white arm, bared to the forearm and encircled by a 
band of pearls, outstretched in defiance toward the 
imperturbable bishop, who, having divested himself 
of his facial disguise, stood revealed to her as the 
English drummer she knew at Cosmos Park. 

“ Denial is quite useless, madame ! ” said the de- 
tective. “ You see we have met before. I have no 
wish to persecute you, and am only doing my duty. 
If you will now confess the wrong you have done 
this man’s wife, and leave the city at once, I promise 
you shall depart in safety and unmolested ; refuse, 
and I will leave you to the fury of those whom 
you have deceived ! In a few hours at most the 
telegraph will bring them news from Havana — news 
that your fellow conspiritor, Alvarez del Marco, is 
now in prison and has revealed everything to save 
himself, and that the expedition from America has 
been abandoned. You are a brave woman, Madame 
de Bouville, but I see you tremble at the thought of 
a traitor’s death !” 

With desperate courage she strove to overcome 
the horror his words conjured before her. The air 
seemed filled with muttered maledictions, and she 
saw the vengeful glances of the filibusters bent 
upon her, till instinctively she shrank from the 
downward sweep of their daggers ; but like the play 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


191 


of light along some wind-touched lake, vanishing 
quickly as it came, the picture faded from view and 
Beatrice regained her composure. 

“ Your threats do not frighten me,” she answered, 
“ since there is none here who knew me in Cuba! 
With Juan Fernandez away from America, I can 
laugh at your offers of mercy. And you, Monsieur 
Clifford!” — turning to Reinhardt — “surely, you 
do not believe this of me? If I have sinned against 
your wife, it was in teaching my heart to love you, 
monsieur ! ” 

“ Too late ! Too late!” murmured the broker, 
scarcely heeding her words, for he sat with his head 
low upon his arm, overcome by the force of the 
disclosure. “ She came to me with truth upon her 
lips, and I drove her to desperation ! ” 

Madame Beatrice made a movement to leave the 
room, saying, with a touch of scorn in her voice, 
that she had tired of this silly attempt at melodrama. 
Monsieur Clifford, when it suited him to do so, 
might see her alone ; but it was beneath her dignity, 
as it was degrading to the patriotic sentiments she 
now espoused, to longer remain in the presence of a 
hireling of the Imperial government. 

“ Stay, madame ! ” the detective answered, polite- 
ly barring the way with his hand upon the door. 
“Your complicity in this matter has not been made 
as clear as I could wish. So, once more, I give you 
a choice of alternatives.” 

“And once more, you fool, ” she replied in a 
half-whisper, “I say you are powerless to frighten 
me with threats ! ” 


192 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


“ You betrayed yourself when you saw the 
Cuban’s card ; for in your look of triumph, though 
you knew it not, I read the knowledge that he has 
induced this woman to leave America with him. It 
was to secure this information, in the way that I 
have, that this little episode was planned with the 
nurse, and you know how well it has been carried 
out ! ” 

“And what have you gained by it? A reputation 
as a blunderer. If you had kept Fernandez in 
America, it would be to your credit ; but as it is I 
make no confession, and you are powerless to prove 
anything against me.” 

“Remember, madame — these Cubans are quick 
to kill ! One word from me, and before you can 
leave the city, or devise other means of safety, 
they will clamor for your life ! ” 

“ Who will they believe? me, their ally — or you, 
a spy? No, no, monsieur; the sea holds all that 
could bring me to terms ! ” 

“ Then I will invoke the sea to aid me,” said the 
Englishman with a sudden motion of his hand. 
“Look, madame, on the ghost of a conspirator!” 

By preconcerted arrangement the door swung 
open, and there revealed in a dim light, with hand 
upraised like some accusing statue, stood the Span- 
iard who had killed his brother on the Storm Kins:. 

“ The serpent ring!” cried Beatrice with a 
piercing scream. “It is the murderer Gonzalo 
Carrasco ! ” 

And when the household, aroused by that loud 
outcry, came hurrying to the supper-room, they 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


193 


found Madame de Bouville writhing in a convulsive 

© 

fit, her beautiful features distorted almost beyond 
recognition, while old Mrs. Reinhardt knelt over her 
favorite with a pitying look. 

“Leave her, mother!” said the broker half sav- 
agely. “ It were better that she died ! ” 

* * * * * * 

The Storm King had, as Wyckliff Ried well 
knew, returned to Cuba two nights before ; but had 
the detective known that it sailed without Fernan- 
dez, through the intervention of circumstances now 
to be related, that knowledge would have materially 
changed his plans. 

It will be remembered the Cuban and Madeline, 
when last the reader’s attention centered on them, 
stood together on the steamer’s deck in thoughtful 
silence, awaiting the hour for departure from Amer- 
ica. Each intent upon an absorbing theme, they 
saw nothing of a shadow stealthily approaching, 
which, as it emerged from the darkness of the ship 
into the moonlight, revealed itself as the Cuban who 
had guided Juan to Cosmos Park. He was again 
the bearer of a message from the councils of the 
filibusters, bidding him return for instructions in the 
hazardous matter he had volunteered his services for, 
which being the transmission of treasonable docu- 
ments to their allies in Havana, to serve as the 
avant courier of the expedition, was an undertaking 
that meant death to him in the event of failure. 
The shadow glided to his side and spoke low in 
Spanish. 

“ Ha ! it is you, Arturo? ” said Juan with a start. 


194 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


“ Important news, senor,” was the quick reply. 
“ My orders are to return with you at once.” 

“ What, am I not to sail to-night? ” 

“Yes; your plans will not be disturbed. But 
there is time enough, since the steamer does not 
leave until near midnight. It is not far to go, and 
I have a carriage in waiting.” 

“ But the senora,” whispered Juan in his ear. 
“ Do you not see she is under my protection?” 

“ Kemember your oath ! ” Arturo replied signifi- 
cantly. “ The senora will be safe until your return. 
I have told you it is a matter important to the cause ; 
so choose between love and country. Which shall 
it be, senor? ” 

A moment of rebellious passion, in which the 
Cuban’s brow grew dark as he pondered over the 
messenger’s words, and he turned to Arturo with 
the assurance that he would obey, at which the 
fellow went as silently as he had come, to await 
Juan’s appearance at the carriage. 

“ I must leave you for a time, Madelina, ” said 
Fernandez on departing from the steamer. “But 
only for a little while — no longer than duty impera- 
tively demands of me. You will remain on board 
and wait for me, senora ? Think how swift the 
moments pass till I return ; and then — ah ! life 
will be very sweet when we live but for each other ! ” 

The woman lifted her eyes to his as if silently 
acquiescing in all he had said ; but her sadness of 
manner, as though she feared to be left alone, or 
was beset about by invisible pursuers, made him loth 
to leave her side. It was growing late, however, 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


195 


and delay only lessened his chances of returning be- 
fore the Storm King’s time for steaming seaward ; 
so, tenderly drawing Madeline’s wrap closer to keep 
off the night air, he suddenly imprinted a kiss upon 
her feverish brow, and then joined Arturo for the 
journey to Cosmos Park. 

Thither, also, turns the reader’s fanc}^, to find 
Fernandez involved in a quarrel with Koderick 
Brawn, and one entirely of the duelist’s own seeking. 

The Cuban, after a quick dispatch of the business 
with his fellow patriots, had passed into the club 
and found his friend Luddington, much the worse 
for liquor and bent on playing for large stakes, still 
sitting at the table and losing heavily. One after 
another the players had withdrawn from the game, 
convinced that the mythical tiger was not to be cap- 
tured while Brawn held the cards, until only the 
younger and less experienced men remained. A 
glance showed Juan how matters stood. The young 
club man, rich and fond of life, had lost his money 
in reckless play, and now as a last hope, so fatal 
to many a gamester, he drew his check-book for a 
further assault upon the bank. 

“ Go home now, Luddington,” interrupted the 
Cuban, laying his hand on the other’s shoulder. 
“ Luck seems against you to-night, senor ! ” 

A muttered curse escaped the duelist’s lips at this 
interference, and the glance he shot at Fernandez, 
against whom he had conceived a violent dislike 
because of Madame de Bouville, would have deterred 
one less courageous than the Cuban from his course. 

“ The gov’nor can stand it,” was Luddington’s 

13 


19(5 


t SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


labored reply, “ and I’m going to break the bank ! 
Much obliged for advice, you know ; but really, old 
fellow, couldn’t think of leaving the game ! v 

Little heeding the obstinacy of a half-drunken 
man, Juan pressed the point still more firmly, while 
the spectators looked on with an instinctive dread of 
what was coming. 

“ The gentleman seems able to manage his own 
affairs,” Roderick Brawn interrupted, springing to 
his feet. “And as for your meddling, Fernandez, 
it shall cost you dear ! ” 

“I wish no quarrel w T ith you, Senor Roderico,” 
the Cuban answered. “ But this man is my friend, 
and I must protect him now he is helpless.” 

“ You are aware of the rules of the house? ” 

“Perfectly, senor.” 

“And yet you insultingly defy my authority 
here ? ” 

“As you like, senor.” A careless shrug of the 
Cuban’s shoulders served to make the gambler all 
the more incensed. “I respect no authority that 
compromises my honor.” 

“By that you mean,” continued Brawn, livid 
with rage, “ that I have robbed your friend ! ” 

“ Pardon me, senor,” replied Juan with a hurried 
look at his watch, “ but I have no time for contro- 
versy.” 

The memory of Madeline, and his duty to the 
filibusters, made him anxious to return to the 
steamer, especially as the time of sailing was not far 
distant, and he prudently made preparation for 
departure with Arturo. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


197 


“ You cowardly interloper ! ” exclaimed the duel- 
ist, dealing the Cuban a blow in the face with his 
open hand. “ Would you insult a gentleman with- 
out giving him satisfaction? Take that for better 
manners, and if you have the courage of a mouse, 
choose your time and place ! ” 

“ But for that blow, Senor Boderico, your insult 
would be borne ! ” The supple figure of Fernan- 
dez, surrounded by his dark-browed countrymen, 
trembled with passion as he spoke. “And now I 
accept your challenge as becomes a Cuban ! ” 

“ Then we will leave the matter with our friends,” 
replied the duelist turning away. “ Only let the 
day of meeting be soon.” 

“ It must be to-night, senor ! ” said Juan. “ To- 
morrow I shall be far away.” 

“ To-night it shall be, then,” vouchsafed the 
other. “ The choice of places, under the rules of 
the code, belongs to you.” 

“ I know the code,” returned the Cuban haugh- 
tily, “ and shall claim its privileges. We will fight 
with swords, Senor Boderico ; and the place, if it 
suits you, shall be your own instruction-room. As 
for the rest, my countryman Arturo is empowered 
to act for me in all things. He will select a good 
blade, senor, never fear ! ” 

The preliminaries of the meeting were soon 
arranged by Colonel Graham, except that Brawn’s 
seconds would not listen to the proposition made by 
the Cuban, that the duel should take place in the 
club-house at Cosmos Park. It would involve their 
personal safety, besides bringing discredit on the 


198 


SAVED BY THE SWOED. 


house ; and it was useless, they argued, to insist 
upon fighting here, when within easy distance by 
carriage there was a secluded spot free from moles- 
tation. 

This strangest of strange battle-grounds, invested 
with the silence of death under the midnight moon, 
was an ancient burial place that, like its own sleepers, 
possessed little interest for the living ; and it was 
here, where the lichens crept from mound to mound, 
and tall, branching pine-trees mingled their shade 
with the lowly willow, that Juan Fernandez crossed 
blades at last with the dreaded swordsman. 

The surgeon, a young physician of sporting pro- 
clivities, had some misgivings on the subject of 
dueling, and this occasioned a delay in the proceed- 
ings ; but he being at last won over, and carriages 
having been procured for conveyance of the party 
outside the city, (including Luddington himself, who, 
having become somewhat sobered by events, insisted 
upon going), it was not far from midnight when 
Brawn and the Cuban met within a little glade 
lighted by the refulgence of the moon shining 
through the tree-tops. 

“If you are ready, gentlemen,” said Colonel 
Graham in his bluff, soldierly manner, “ proceed 
with this unfortunate affair and have done with it at 
once.” 

For answer the two principals advanced sword in 
hand, and the silence was intense, oppressive — 
strangly in keeping with the time and place — until 
their flashing blades met with a ringing sound, omi- 
nous indeed to the little group of watchers, and the 


SAVED BY THE SWOKD. 


199 


spell was broken. Fernandez was alert, buoyant, 
almost playful in manner ; Brawn dogged, malicious, 
determined to kill. Yet for once, the duelist who 
had seemed invincible was clearly well matched in 
this Cuban rebel. His sword was turned aside 
again and again when he thought to give Juan a 
mortal wound, and only his own excellence as a 
swordsman, acquired through long experience with 
the rapiers, saved him from a return thrust that 
would have ended the duel. 

“ My countryman fights well,” remarked Arturo 
in an undertone to Luddington, who, bitterly ac- 
cusing himself of being the cause of the trouble, 
stood by fearing for the life of his college friend. 
“ He will kill this braggart American when he has 
played him out.” 

But if Fernandez excelled the duelist in agility, 
and in strength and skill was evenly his match, 
Brawn was more fertile in expedients and possessed 
a better command of nerve, which gave him a certain 
advantage over the Cuban, who, anxious to end the 
duel that he might return to the steamer, now 
forced the battle with more zeal than judgment, and 
thus grew careless in his methods of defence. 

“A right clever thrust, you Cuban dog!” cried 
Brawn in anger, as he felt the Cuban’s sword enter 
his shoulder. He realized, with a sickening fear, 
how near that keen blade had come to ending his life. 

“ It were better, gentlemen,” interposed Colonel 
Graham, that you let this quarrel go no further. 
To continue the duel now that it has reached this 
decisive stage, seems contrary to the code.” 


200 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


This speech was received by Brawn with derision. 
It was his privilege, as the challenger, to fight till 
the death if he chose, and until he received a mor- 
tal wound he would never capitulate to this for- 
eigner. So Arturo, much against his wishes, was 
told his countryman must remain and give the duel- 
ist battle. 

“I know you now, Senor Roderico ! ” the Cu- 
ban said, as he stood at swordspoint with Brawn. 
“You have forced me to fight that you may kill 
me.” 

“ Yes, I always kill my man ! ” replied his antag- 
onist, though inwardly he felt that in the present 
instance it was no easy task, for the Cuban had 
proved himself an excellent swordsman. 

The duel was now resumed, and from this stage 
onward, as they wielded their weapons in the 
moonlight, it became a life-and-death struggle for 
supremacy. 

“You called me a dog, senor!” hissed Fernan- 
dez, as he disarmed the gambler with a trick of the 
sword ; “ so I worry you as the dog does his prey 
before he kills it. Pick up your sword, Senor Rod- 
erico, for I will not kill you empty-handed ! ” 

The incident was disastrous to Fernandez, for it 
lessened his caution in sword-play. Brawn’s defeat, 
on the contrary, seemed to make him doubly care- 
ful, and he watched for an opening in the Cuban’s 
guard while acting on the defensive. Suddenly, 
amid a rapid exchange of thrusts, Arturo cried out 
a warning to his countryman. 

The sword of Roderick Brawn, quick to do the 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


201 


bidding of its master, sank deep into the Cuban’s 
breast, making a w T ound from which the hot blood 
gushed in streams. 

“Ah, Madelina ! ” he gasped, “ the sword has saved 
you ! ” And with these words trembling on his 
lips, he fell insensible into Luddington’s arms. 

“ ’Tis an ugly wound,” said the surgeon when he 
had done all in his power, “ but not necessarily fatal, 
if he has good care. A little lower, though, and 
Brawn’s sword would have pierced his heart.” 

“ Yes,” observed Colonel Graham,” he meant it 
for a mortal stroke. “ But it w T as his only hope of 
winning, for the Cuban handled his rapier like a 
soldier. Egad ! but he’s a good one, and deserves 
to live.” 

The victorious Brawn, meanwhile, faint from the 
w r ound he received, had been helped to his carriage 
and conveyed back to Cosmos Park, where he hoped 
to hear in the morning that Fernandez was dead. 

And the moon, as it rose high above the tree-tops, 
looked down upon a deserted glade stained with 
human blood, where so lately the din of battle had 
broken the stillness of night. Then sailing on in a 
river of fleecy cloud, lighting up the dark old streets 
of the city, it seemed to follow the Cuban’s carriage 
with a kindly eye, and only the moon saw it stop 
before Luddington’s home, through whose portals 
was borne the man it had seen wounded in the glade. 
Strange sights and secrets are thine, O moon ! 

But this was not all the moon saw that night of 
the duel in the glade. It sailed over tall ships, and 
saw its own image in the sea. A woman’s eyes 


202 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


looked up to its great height from the deck of a 
foreign steamer in the dock, and Madeline prayed 
for rest, and love, and forgiveness, in realms far 
above the moon’s bright course. Her brain reeled 
with terror as she realized that she was alone, de- 
serted, a fugitive from all she held dear ; and that 
strange, fascinating light in the water, surely it was 
drawing her to its embrace ! It was the first long- 
ing for death she had known, but now that it was 
near, she shrank from ending a life that had become 
embittered. Better to live, she thought, and expi- 
ate her faults in a world of suffering, than to die 
like a coward, and leave only the memory of a sui- 
cide as a heritage for those she loved. The steam- 
er’s motion warned her that the time for action had 
arrived, and Madeline, unnoticed by the hurrying 
sailors, groped her way to the shore, to wander, she 
knew not whither. On and on she went, still keep- 
ing near the sea, and catching glimpses of its allur- 
ing light through open spaces along the docks, until 
all strength of mind and body succumbed to the ter- 
rible strain, and she seemed to be drifting out upon 
the tide of oblivion. 

The moon, sole witness of the scene, saw a child- 
ish form — that of the hunchback Dandy — stand- 
ing like a sentinel by the woman’s side, and its 
kindly face, long after the Storm King disappeared 
oceanward, was turned toward them in mute 
companionship. 


CHAPTER X. 


“ ’Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours, 

And ask them what report they bore to Heaven, 

And how they might have borne more welcome news.” 

— Young. 



DAY following the denoue- 
ment concocted by Wyckliff 
Ried, which resulted in dethron- 
ing Madame de Bouville from 
her high position in the broker’s 
home, saw the detective in ear- 
nest consultation with Gregory 
Maitland and his son-in-law, 
Clifford Reinhardt. 

“ I have chartered a 
steamer for Havana,” 
the latter is saying, 
“ and mean to find my 
wife. Until her own lips condemn her, guilty 
though she may be, I cannot believe she is utterly 
false to me. ” 

“ God bless you for those words, Clifford,” the old 
merchant faltered. “ Remember she is the victim 
of a foul conspiracy ! ” 

The detective listened to their conversation in 
respectful silence, since it grew into an exhaustive 
consideration of family affairs, in which he had no 
part, and concerning which he was not supposed to 
have much, if any, knowledge. 


204 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


“ As far as your plans go,’’ said he at length, 
addressing himself to Reinhardt, “they are well 
enough in their way, only I do not think you will 
find your wife in Cuba.” 

“ Indeed ! ” was the broker’s surprised exclama- 
tion. “ You assured me quite to the contrary last 
night.” 

“Yes; but I was mistaken it seems. Madame 
de Bouville, you will remember, intimated certain 
things by her knowledge of the Cuban’s movements.” 

“Quite true; there was that in her manner, too, 
which indicated that she spoke the truth. On what 
hypothesis, then, do you base this new-found hope ?” 

“ On the fact that Fernandez did not sail in the 
Storm King, but lies dangerously wounded at the 
house of his college chum.” 

“ Juan Fernandez in America ! ” cried Reinhardt. 
“This seems incredible. Take me to him — at 
once, this very hour — till I wring the truth from 
his accursed lips ! ” 

“No need of that,” the detective answered sadly. 
“ The sword has done its work ; and since he thinks 
it is his death-wound, he has confessed what little 
he had to do with your wife’s disappearance.” 

“Then you have seen him — talked with him?” 

“Yes; last night, in my character of a drum- 
mer, I visited some of the old haunts ; and falling 
in with one of the night hawks, a hackman whom I 
had done a slight service, I learned from him that 
Fernandez had fought a duel with Madame de Bou- 
ville’s lover, the fencing-master, Roderick Brawn, 
and that he conveyed the wounded man away in his 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


205 


carriage. He knew me as the Cuban’s friend, and 
on a promise of secrecy guided me to him this morn- 
ing. The rest you shall know when you are in the 
mood for listening.” 

Maitland, unable to longer control himself, plied 
Ried with questions about his daughter, to all of 
which the detective was forced to give a negative 
answer. 

“ I am sorry to say that Mrs. Reinhardt’s where- 
abouts at the present time, notwithstanding the vigi- 
lance of those searching for her, remain as great a 
mystery as ever.” 

After exacting a promise from Reinhardt that 
he would not interfere with his wishes, which 
were, in effect, that Juan should not be placed 
under police surveillance as an offender against the 
law, the detective made his hearers familiar with the 
Cuban’s story of the night he was wounded, dwell- 
ing minutely upon his accidental meeting with Mad- 
eline, her reluctant consent (under most extenuating 
circumstances) to elope with him to Cuba, and giv- 
ing in detail many of the incidents already known to 
the reader. 

“Well, what shall we do next, Mr. Ried?” 
asked the broker. “ I mean in regard to Mrs. Rein- 
hardt. If she left the steamer on that unfortunate 
night, as you seem to think she did, is it not strange 
no tidings have been heard of her in the city ? ” 

“ Yes,” was the slow, deliberate reply; “it is 
strange indeed. Unless — but no, I will not say 
that. My conclusions may be wrong, and it is pos- 
sible, after all, that she is now on her way to Cuba.” 


206 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


“ But you are keeping something back. What is 
it you fear to tell me ? ” 

“Unless — mind, I only surmise it — your wife 
is dead.” 

“ Dead ! My darling Madeline dead?” cried poor 
old Maitland. Oh, man ! this punishment is too 
great to bear.” 

Reinhardt steadied himself by a supreme com- 
mand of nerve, and, moved to compassion at sight of 
Maitland’s grief, he crossed to the old man’s side 
and laid his hand upon his shoulder. 

“ Don’t give way to this new fear — it is only a 
phantom,” he assured him. “I cannot, will not 
believe her dead ! She must live to know the truth, 
to hear me say that I forgive her ; and in that hope, 
if heaven grants me nothing more, I look forward 
to our meeting in life ! ” 

“It is only surmise on my part,” said the detec- 
tive, “ and perhaps it is wrong to harbor the 
thought ; but from what I know of your wife’s con- 
dition that night — her irresponsible state of mind, 
you know — it occurs to me that if she left the 
Storm King, as she naturally would since Fernandez 
could not return to join her, circumstances might 
have led her to ” — 

“ Hush !” said Reinhardt in an undertone. “I 
know what you would say, but spare him the thought 
of suicide ! ” 

“ Then we had better end this interview and await 
developments,” replied the detective. “ Meet me 
at my hotel to-morrow, and be prepared to learn the 
worst. In the meantime do not seek to find me, for 


SAVED BY THE SAVORD. 


207 


I shall begin a new search — one that may lead me 
into strange, unhappy places.” 

A shudder passed over Reinhardt as he bowed in 
acquiescence, for he guessed something of the other’s 
meaning, and realized that he was to visit that 
gloomiest of places — the morgue. 

As for the brilliant adventuress, Madame de Bou- 
ville, she had in the meantime vanished from the 
world of Beacon Hill, not even old Mrs. Reinhardt’s 
friendship having withstood the test so dramatically 
applied, while fear of the filibusters had driven her 
into hiding in an obscure part of the city. 

Here it is, in a meanly-furnished room, accessible 
only through dark and winding passages, that we 
find the beautiful Beatrice listening for a step on 
the stairs. For hours she had waited with the 
door fastened by its heavy bolts, anticipating the 
coming of Roderick Brawn. It was a third-rate 
hotel, but she was safest there. No one who had 
known her at Cosmos Park would be likely to visit 
this dilapidated hostelry, frequented by marketmen 
from converging sections of country, thirsty way- 
farers who bestowed their patronage upon the little 
sample-room, and a sprinkling of low politicians 
from various precincts. 

“At last he has come !” she joyfully exclaimed, 
for some one was slowly making his way along the 
passage. “ I had begun to think he, too, would 
leave me to my fate.” 

It was, indeed, the duelist Brawn who stumbled 
up the stairs ; and following him at a safe distance, 
though he knew it not, was the light-footed Cuban 


208 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


known among the filibusters as Arturo. The duelist 
had waited until dark before answering Madame de 
Bouville’s urgent summons, but despite his cautious 
movements on leaving Cosmos Park, Arturo dogged 
his footsteps all the way. He heard Brawn speak 
her name, Beatrice, with a sort of fiendish satisfac- 
tion, and having seen him enter the room at the end 
of the passage, the Cuban curled himself up at the 
door and listened. 

“ Why have you left me so long in my loneliness, 
Roderick, my love? ” he heard her ask. “ Did you 
not know my life was in danger? Oh, I have 
endured untold horrors since I saw you last. The 
ghost of Gonzalo Carrasco, as I thought, came to 
haunt me from his ocean grave, and I betrayed 
myself.” 

Madame’s soft white arms were clasped around 
her handsome cavalier, and he held her close with 
his dreaded sword arm, while the other hung limp 
and useless at his side. She had dressed for his 
coming, and were it not for the paleness of her face, 
thought Brawn, she never looked more beautiful. 

But he must return to Cosmos Park before his 
absence was noticed ; so, seeking to devise some 
plan for the future, he acquainted Beatrice with the 
duel he had fought with Fernandez. 

“Yes; he will die unless a miracle saves him,” 
he said in answer to her questioning. “I meant 
the thrust to kill.” 

“Poor Juan!” she said. “Could nothing but 
death atone for his slight fault? ” 

“Death is the great reconciler of foes,” he 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


209 


answered. “ It was his life or mine, Beatrice, for I 
had sworn, the day you plighted troth with me, 
that nothing should come between” — 

Madame de Bouville tore herself from her lover’s 
grasp, for his language had conjured a fearful pic- 
ture before the brain, and turned upon him with 
the ferocity of a tigress. 

“ Roderick Brawn ! ” she hissed, “ you are as 
much a murderer as if you had secretly sent a bullet 
through his heart. A curse on your code ! What is 
it but a barbarous, murderous thing? Tell me why 
you forced Fernandez to cross swords with you, and 
he a mere boy in your skillful hands ! ” 

“Because,” replied the duelist sullenly, “you 
chose to lavish on him the love that should be mine.” 

“Oh, blind fool of chance!” was her reply. 
“ But I will not reproach you, since upon my head 
must this sin be visited. Had you known the Cuban 
was but my friend, my tool, you would not have 
challenged him. But do you know if she — the 
woman he eloped with on the night of the duel — is 
with him ? ” 

“I know nothing of all this, Beatrice!” he 
impatiently made answer. “ I am like one in a 
dream. First, I learn I have fought the wrong 
man ; then that some woman in love with' this Cuban 
is left disconsolate because my sword, instead of his, 
was the truest steel. Damn me if I understand 
your deep-laid schemes ! If it is not Fernandez 
Avho stands between us, it must be the Englishman 
you seem so fond of — ha ! you start, madame. Then 
it is him you love, my pretty schemer?” 


210 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


Madame de Bouville bad drawn near the door and 
stood listening with strained ear, while a wave of 
ashy pallor swept over her features ; but aroused by 
Brawn’s sneering remark, she angrily retorted : — 
“No, no — not him! He is a detective, and 
holds us in his power — you as well as me ! Think 
of what he knows concerning your life at Cosmos 
Park — enough to ruin you here. Nothing stands 
between us now but death ; and if you would save 
me from that, Roderick Brawn, take me from here 
to-night. I cannot breathe in safety where these 
filibusters are ! ” 

“ Then swear to be true to me, Beatrice ! Only 
assure me of this ; let me feel that I have a place in 
your heart. You are indeed in danger, for these 
Cuban bloodhounds are keen of scent ; yet, once 
across the continent with me, I defy them to track you 
out. But you hesitate ; your indecision augurs ” — 
“I swear it, Roderick!” she interrupted. “A 
sudden fear overcame me, that is all ; for I thought 
I heard a noise upon the stairs — a light, stealthy 
movement that reminded me of Arturo. Oh, I am 
growing childish in my fancies ! It was probably 
nothing but an echo from the street, and yet — 
hark, there it is again within the passage ! ” 

For answer Brawn strode to the door, pistol in 
hand, and threw it open so that a narrow lane of 
light fell across the gloom, illumining a space 
straight ahead to the stairs, but leaving in shadow a 
portion of the passage on either side the doorway. 

“ There is no one there, Beatrice,” he assured her 
after a hasty inspection. “It is fancy that affrights 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


211 


you.” He saw nothing of the cloaked figure in the 
passage, since the door, opening outward at the ca- 
price of its builder, formed a safe hiding-place for the 
eavesdropping Arturo. “ Come, throw off this fear 
and walk with me to the stairway : it will train your 
nerves for dangers that are real. The police will 
soon be on my track, should the Cuban die ; and 
with a new menace in the person of this English 
detective, it would be madness to stay and meet the 
issue. So be in readiness to leave here at midnight, 
for I shall return for you by that time.” 

Arm in arm they passed from the room, and hard- 
ly had they crossed its threshold, to part at the 
stairway after a tender leave-taking, when Arturo 
glided from his hiding place and secreted himself 
within the apartment. 

Madame de Bouville, all unconscious of the danger, 
returned to her room, carefully fastening the door 
with bolt and key, and thus entrapped the traitress 
was menaced by a Nemesis that knew not the name 
of mercy. 

* * * * * * 

The disappearance of Mrs. Keinhardt, so far as it 
had become publicly known, was attributed to a 
deplorable condition of mind incident to the fright 
she had received on the night of the ball, and letters 
offering friendly advice in the matter, or that were 
voluminously reminiscent about people who had 
wandered from home, reached the broker by each 
successive mail. 

Madeline, in the meantime, as the reader must 
long ago have surmised, had found a place of refuge 
14 


212 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


in the Barlow household, since the hunchback’s 
meeting with her on the night of her flight is chron- 
icled in the previous chapter. 

The incidents of that night were with difficulty 
recalled when she awoke to consciousness and found 
herself among strangers. A fever had slowly 
burned itself out during the interval of her departure, 
until now T , three days after, it left her sick and help- 
less. At first she fancied she was abandoned in 
some lonely place to die of thirst, but at her feeble 
cry for water a cooling draught was placed to her 
lips, and with a prayer of thankfulness she sank 
back among the pillows, to awaken again when the 
light had broadened in the east and the sun, rising 
over a forest of masts, shone into the dingy room in 
which she lay. 

A figure sat by her bedside, as it had all through 
the long hot night; and Madeline with a start, 
when she saw those big, kindly eyes looking into 
hers, recognized the little hunchback she had inter- 
ceded for the night of the masquerade. 

“Don’t be afraid, missus,” he said assuringly. 
“It’s me, Dandy; the kid wot you coaxed away 
from the cop, you know.” 

“Oh, yes; I remember,” she answered vaguely. 
“ But tell me, child, how came I here?” 

“ Tom carried you in his arms after you fainted.” 
replied the hunchback. “ You was on the steamer, 
and we was prowlin’ around late at night. Don’t 
you remember that, too ? I followed you when you 
left the steamer, cos I knew you was the lady wot 
was so kind to me, and I was afeer’d you’d fall into 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


213 


the dock. Then we saw you faint — and you hurt 
your head when you fell. Tom wouldn’t let me get 
a doctor ; so we took you home to Mammy Barlow, 
and you’ve been here ever since.” 

Then it all came back to her — the flight from 
home, her meeting with Juan Fernandez, and their 
parting on board the Storm King — with such vivid- 
ness of detail that Madeline covered her face as if to 
shut out the spectacle. 

‘‘And haven’t any of my friends been to see me?” 
she asked in a forlorn tone.” My father, or — sister 
Edith ? ” 

“ No,” replied the hunchback wonderingly. 

“ Not even nurse Margaret? ” she continued, for- 
getting in her eagerness that Dandy could have no 
knowledge of such people. 

“ No’m ; nobody knows where you is,” said the 
boy, “ They won’t let me git out to tell your folks.” 

The truth of the situation by degrees became 
plain to her, when she discovered that the Barlows 
had dispossessed her of the valuables she had the 
night she was brought there, even to her finger-rings 
and ear-drops. She had fallen among thieves, and 
was virtually a prisoner in their hands. Perhaps 
they meant to kill her in order to conceal their 
wrong-doing. Ill and weak as she was, she would 
be powerless to oppose their wicked designs with 
no friend near but the little hunchback ; and, while 
nothing so dreadful might be premeditated, she 
shrank in terror from the very thought. Death, 
that once seemed a boon, now appalled her with its 
terrors. 


214 


SAVED BY THE SWOBD. 


“ Only to live,” she prayed, “ to be near my child 
and watch over him. Grant me this, O merciful 
God, and I will be content ! ” 

The hours dragged slowly along toward nightfall, 
with only the appearance of Mammy Barlow, whose 
ministrations were of a most kindly nature, to break 
the monotony. Mrs. Reinhardt felt somewhat reas- 
sured at sight of her ; for though uncouth in manners 
and speech, the woman seemed incapable of doing 
Madeline an injury beyond, possibly, keeping her a 
prisoner for a time. To all questions she was non- 
committal, save that she once vouchsafed the infor- 
mation that Tom and her husband, having disposed 
of some of their booty, were drinking themselves 
into insensibility. 

“When they gets sober,” she said by way of a 
decisive answer, “ I’ll know what to tell you. But 
you aint able to leave here now, anyway ; so you’d 
better keep quiet, or the fever’ll be on bad again. 
They sha’n’t harm you, my pretty — whatever else 
they do ! ” 

It gradually grew dark within the sick-room, 
deepening from twilight into the solemn blackness 
of night, and Mrs. Reinhardt, after tossing uneasily 
upon her pillow, fell into the deep slumber of a 
fever patient. A light was brought in and carefully 
shaded from her eyes. Mammy Barlow, whatever 
her faults, had acted the part of a kind-hearted 
nurse, and Madeline’s needs were well supplied. 
On the table by her side stood a tumbler of milk 
and brandy, with other simple remedies her nurse’s 
intelligence had prescribed ; and that she might not 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


215 


want for anything through the night, little Dandy 
was allowed to remain on watch. 

The hunchback, who had feigned to be very 
sleepy, grew suddenly wide awake when his foster- 
mother had left the room. He crept to the door 
and listened. The Barlows, father and son, could 
be heard down-stairs in maudlin conversation, and 
were inclined to be angry over the division of their 
spoils. But this, to Dandy’s mind, was favorable to 
a plan he had decided upon, since his absence might 
not be discovered before morning. 

He waited until all was still, and then raising the 
window, which was in the second story of the build- 
ing and overlooked the water, he took a survey of 
the narrow dock below. The moon had not yet 
risen, and the tide being at its highest point, so 
that a swimmer might dive from an elevated position 
with safety, the time was well suited to the under- 
taking. Poising his body an instant on the case- 
ment, the hunchback, lithe and active of limb, shot 
downward into a clear space of water, and after div- 
ing again to avoid an on-coming boat, he emerged 
from the dock a hundred yards from the place where 
he had plunged into it. He was dripping wet and 
minus coat, hat and shoes, and it occurred to 
Dandy, on reflection, that in this plight he could not 
reach Beacon Hill, to find the house where he was 
captured on the night of the ball, without challeng- 
ing the attention of the first patrolman he encoun- 
tered. But, nothing daunted, the little thief thought 
of a way to provide himself with dry clothes, and 
like a veritable wharf-rat he again entered the water 


216 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


and swam to a vessel’s side, ignorant that his move- 
ments were being watched by a patrolman creeping 
along the same side of the dock. 

“You’re wanted, me lad,” said the grinning 
official, laying a heavy hand on the hunchback as he 
scrambled over the rail. “ It’s asking after you 
they’ve been doing at the capt’in’s office.” And so, 
despite his efforts, Dandy soon found himself behind 
prison bars. 

Early the following day, as previously agreed 
upon, a carriage drew up in front of the Parker 
House, and Clifford Reinhardt, accompanied by his 
mother, alighted therefrom and entered the detec- 
tive’s hotel. 

Wyckliff Ried looked slightly annoyed at the 
appearance of the old lady, but on being informed 
that she wished to be present at the interview, so 
great was her anxiety to learn if he had found any 
trace of Madeline, he led the way to his apartments 
without comment, mentally assuring himself, how- 
ever, that her visit was a sign of reconciliation be- 
tween mother and daughter. 

“ My mother, as you see, could not wait in sus- 
pense until my retun/’ the broker began. “ I 
hope her presence here will not embarrass you in 
anything that you have to tell me.” 

“ Still, with all due respect, I wish she had 
deferred her visit until another time,” was Ried’s 
reply. “ What I have to tell you is not of a pleas- 
ant nature, and perhaps ” — turning to Mrs. Rein- 
hardt — “the lady is not piepared for tragic dis- 
closures.” 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


217 


The proud aristocrat impulsively seized his hand 
and implored him not to spare her feelings in the 
matter, adding in a broken voice: “ I, sir, suffer 
from an inward wound. What you have to say can 
add but little to the agony of my heart ; for, alas ! 
I have been cruelly unjust to Madeline, and all 
because of a foolish woman’s pride.” 

“ Spare yourself a recital that gives you pain,” 
the detective said, to check her volubility. “ I think 
I understand the kindly motive that brings you 
here.” Then turning to Reinhardt, he said, “I will 
proceed on the supposition that you knew I intended 
to begin my search this morning at the morgue.” 

“ Yes,” was Reinhardt’s answer. “ Go on, pray.” 

The detective then detailed his movements since 
early morning, when he began a round of the places 
where people found drowned, or who had met their 
death in any unnatural way, would be likely to be 
brought for identification, or pending an investiga- 
tion. 

“ W r e left no stone unturned,” said Ried in con- 
clusion, “ in our efforts to find a clue. Going from 
place to place, we saw strange sights and became 
conversant with new phases of crime and misery; 
but it is not my purpose to speak of these, since 
the papers in due time will acquaint you with their 
history. I will simply say that on information given 
me by a friendly reporter, I learned that an unknown 
woman — young and very beautiful — lay dead in 
an out-of-the-way public house where she had taken 
refuge two nights before.” 

“Yes, yes — go on!” Reinhardt commanded, 


218 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


seeing that the detective cast an apprehensive glance 
in the direction of his mother. 

“A detective, you must understand, never accepts 
the theories of others, until he has investigated for 
himself ; so, in spite of certain incongruities of 
description, I felt impelled to go with my friend of 
the press. I found that a murder had been com- 
mitted — that is all.” The speaker stopped abrupt- 
ly, as if loth to acquaint his listeners with the details 
of the crime. 

“And you found the murdered woman was? — ” 

“ Madame de Bouville,” the detective answered. 
“ She has paid the penalty of her treachery.” 

A cry of terror escaped the old lady’s lips, and 
she covered her eyes with trembling hands, as if to 
shut out all sight of the murdered Beatrice she had 
loved so well. 

“ Horrible ! — this news you tell me,” said the 
broker with a shudder. He saw, as in a vision, her 
golden head pillowed on the cold marble of the 
morgue : closed for ever those eyes of wondrous 
beauty : silent — kissed by death — the full red lips 
that had smiled so dangerously near his own. 

“ O, Fate ! ” he cried, “ thy retribution has been 
swift and sure ! ” 

After a short silence, the detective resumed his 
story of the tragedy. Madame de Bouville had 
been stabbed to the heart, dying where they found 
her, and apparently without a struggle ; for the 
avenging Arturo had done his work with cunning 
skill. The assassin, it was thought, had stifled the 
woman’s cries before giving her a death-wound, since 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


219 


no outcry was heard in the house, and the murder 
was not discovered until morning. 

“ But you say nothing of the murderer,” inter- 
rupted Reinhardt’s mother. ‘ ‘ Have the police no 
clew to his identity ? ” 

“ The only person known to have visited her was 
her affianced lover, the fencing-master Roderick 
Brawn. He was seen to leave the hotel at mid- 
night, and the belief is that he killed her in a 
quarrel.” 

“Have they arrested this blackleg, think you?” 
the broker asked. 

“ He has left the city,” replied Wyckliff Ried, 
“ and has covered his tracks so cleverly as to baffle 
pursuit. I shall not, personally, concern myself 
about his arrest. I am not, moreover, possessed of 
facts that warrant a belief in his guilt ; and experi- 
ence makes me loth to hang a man on circumstan- 
tial evidence, as would be the case, doubtless, were 
Brawn to be captured.” 

“ Then you have another theory in regard to the 
murder of Madame de Bouville ? ” 

“ Yes,” was the reply ; “ I think she was killed by 
one of the Cubans she had plotted to betray. The 
discovery of her treachery has set them wild with 
rage. Still the evidence against Roderick Brawn is 
strong in law, and he may have murdered her in a 
fit of passion. But unless the truth is known before 
I leave America, I shall think the duelist returned 
to madame’s room to assist her in escaping from the 
city ; and finding the avenger’s dagger had done its 
mission, he must have realized how futile would be 


SAVED BV THE SWORD. 


m 


his protestations of innocence if he gave the alarm, 
and so fled from the scene in grief and desperation. 
I can add nothing more to my story, except to say 
that the murdered woman, thanks to the generosity 
of Juan Fernandez, will to-morrow be given Chris- 
tian burial in Gethsemane.” 

The conversation then turned upon the detective’s 
search for Madeline, but to the disappointment of 
his visitors, Wyckliff Ried had made no discoveries 
regarding her. 

“I have thought it best to offer a liberal reward to 
whoever gives information leading to her discovery,” 
said Reinhardt when taking his leave. “ It will 
serve, I trust, to stimulate public interest in the 
search.” 

A knock on the door preceded the entrance of a 
messenger from police headquarters, bearing a note 
for the detective. The latter’s pleased expression, 
on breaking the seal, did not escape Reinhardt’s eye, 
and he delayed his departure until the message had 
been read. 

“Hope at last!” said Wyckliff Ried, turning to 
the broker. “ I will read you the good news : — 

“ A young offender — a hunchback who has long been wanted 
for thievery — was arrested last night by a patrolman of the 
second precinct. He was caught prowling about vessels in the 
dock. The prisoner tells a rambling story of a woman being 
detained against her will, and we have thought it well to com- 
municate with you, since his arrest may have some bearing 
upon the case you are interested in. Return with the messen- 
ger if you wish an interview with the hunchback.” 

Leaving the subsequent movements of the detec- 
tive and his friends to the reader’s imagination, we 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


221 


return once more to the Barlow household, where 
Madeline awoke, the morning following Dandy’s 
arrest, feeling so much better that, with her captor’s 
help, she was able to dress herself and sit by the 
window. 

“ If you will let me stay here until I get strong,” 
she said to Mrs. Barlow, after trying in vain to eat 
the slight breakfast brought her, “ I will go away 
somewhere, and say nothing about my loss. You 
have been kind to me, and I do not wish you harm.” 

“ Well, my pretty, you’d ought to thought o’ that 
before sendin’ the boy to your friends,” was the 
woman’s reply. ‘ 4 He’ll git us all into trouble, 
maybe ! ” 

“Indeed, I did not send him away,” Madeline 
protested. “ I was too ill last night to know what 
happened.” 

“ He’s gone, anyway,” was the curt reply, “ and 
Tom won’t promise anything till he finds him ! ” 

Sick at heart, yet with a hope the hunchback, 
having remembered the house he was captured in 
during the masquerade, had gone in search of her 
husband, Madeline resigned herself to a fit of 
weeping. 

“ Oh, Clifford ! Clifford ! ” she sobbed aloud, “ if 
you could but know the truth ! ” 

She was standing at a window, looking down into 
the sunlit water, and knew not that Clifford Rein- 
hardt, followed by his mother, had quietly entered 
the room, and overheard her sorrowful soliloquy. 

“My darling!” he cried, springing forward to 
fold her in his arms. “ The truth is known at last ! 




SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


Speak tome, Madeline — my wife — and say I am 
forgiven ! ” 

But reason had again deserted its throne. The 
suddenness of their meeting had been more than she 
could bear. Madeline lay weak and helpless in her 
husband’s arms — unconscious alike of fervent kisses 
and the kindly ministrations of his mother. 

Only once, in the long, trance-like sleep that fol- 
lowed, did she realize that they had taken her home 
to Beacon Hill. Then she raised herself from the 
pillows and gazed upon the anxious group at her 
bedside, but the faces she saw seemed stern and un- 
familiar, until one more kindly than the others, 
bending over her with all a lover’s tenderness, brought 
back a gleam of intelligence. 

“Clifford! * * Baby!” was all she said, but 
her recognition, though only momentary, was a 
pleasant augury of the recovery that rapidly super- 
vened. 

The murder of Madame de Bouville, in the course 
of police investigation, had led to the arrest of Juan 
Fernandez as a principal in the duel with Roderick 
Brawn, against the peace and good morals of the 
Commonwealth, and the Cuban was placed under 
strict surveillance at Luddington’s home until his 
removal could with safety be insisted upon. 

His wound, in the meantime, had occasioned many 
a grave shake of the doctor’s head, but a sound con- 
stitution and the best of care were in his favor ; and 
Juan, sad at times and cynical as to his fate, noted 
the return of strength from day to day with the 
interest of a man who knows a prison awaits him. 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


223 


The detective had made overtures looking to an 
escape back to Cuba, but Fernandez, knowing his 
true character, was suspicious of Ried’s friendship. 

“Doctor,” said the detective one day when the 
Cuban’s recovery was well advanced, “is your 
patient able to stand the rigor of an ocean voyage?” 

“ That, sir, depends upon one thing. If you 
mean to inveigle him into the hands of the Spaniards, 
my answer is an emphatic No ! ” 

“ I assure you on the honor of a gentleman,” the 
Englishman calmly answered, “ that I have no such 
base intentions.” 

“ This document, as you see,” he continued, ad- 
dressing himself to the Cuban in particular, “bears 
the seal and signature of Don Sebastian, and is 
dated at Havana. It is a full pardon for Juan Fer- 
nandez, lately concerned in a rebellious plot against 
the government, and allows him to return to Cuba 
without fear of molestation ! ” 

“ But, senor,” said Juan, “ I cannot forget that 
you have hunted down my countrymen and de- 
stroyed poor Cuba’s hope of freedom ! ” 

“Hardly so bad as that, Fernandez,” replied the 
detective. “I have only prevented a piece of Span- 
ish butchery at sea ; for had the filibusters sailed from 
America, the plot of Madame de Bou — ” 

“Hush, senor!” the Cuban interrupted. “She 
is now among the dead. Tell me rather of the liv- 
ing. Madelina — she is well ? ” 

“ Yes ; the senora is well and happy.” 

“And you told him — Senor Reinhardt — that she 
was not to blame ? ” 


224 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


“ I have told him all,” answered the Englishman, 
“but it is now of yourself you must think. You 
may be removed from this house to prison any day ; 
and since Roderick Brawn is known to have left the 
country, you are likely to get a long sentence. You 
saved my life, Fernandez : I now offer you your lib- 
erty. Don Sebastian exacts no pledge from you ; so 
this leaves you free to take up arms for Cuba, if 
ever the time for freedom comes — and God knows 
I hope the Cubans, with every misgoverned race 
upon the globe, will have their rights some day ! ” 

A murmur of approval ran through the room as 
Juan, with patriotic zeal, warmly grasped the detec- 
tive’s extended hand and assured him he would trust 
his friendship. 

“ And you, my kind friend,” he continued, turn- 
ing to Luddington, “ will not forget me when I 
leave your country ? ” 

“ No fear of that, old fellow ! ” returned the Bos- 
tonian. “But as a memento of you, Fernandez, I 
wish to keep this sword with which you were 
wounded, since it was brought here through mistake 
on the night of the duel. It will remind me that 
you generously imperiled your life in my behalf ! ” 

“As you will, senor,” said the Cuban, taking the 
weapon and mechanically trying its temper, as if he 
were about to meet a foe. “ But let it remind you, 
also, that through Senor Roderico the sword has 
saved a woman’s honor ! ” 

The Englishman dined that afternoon — the last he 
was to spend in America — with Clifford Reinhardt 
at a down-town club, and in a private interview laid 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


225 


before him his plans for escaping with Juan Fer- 
nandez. 

“ You see the danger in allowing the Cuban to be 
placed on trial here,” he argued. “ Not only the 
duel at midnight, but matters anterior to that event , 
and which, unfortunately, concern your domestic 
happiness not a little, will likely be made public in 
a court of justice ! ” 

“ I realize that such a disclosure of my wife’s 
movements that night is much to be dreaded,” said 
the broker, “ and agree to your suggestion. The 
steamer I have chartered will send a boat ashore for 
you at dark, and your party must be at the dock on 
its arrival. I shall arrange with the captain of the 
steamer to apprise me of your departure by sending 
up a signal rocket.” 

“Very well,” said the detective, “I will be re- 
sponsible for the Cuban’s going. I would like also 
to see your little protege, the hunchback, once more ; 
but I must now see about the burial of Gonzalo 
Carrasco. The poor wretch died last night, I hear — 
tortured by the ghost of his murdered brother.” 

So perfectly arranged were all the details of the 
escape, even to eluding the careless officer who 
guarded the prisoner’s door, that the Englishman 
and Juan Fernandez reached their steamer that night 
without adventure ; and within the next hour, 
standing sad and thoughtful by the side of AYyckliff 
Ried, the Cuban saw the land disappear in impen- 
etrable gloom. 

“ Farewell, Madelina ! — farewell ! ” he murmured. 
“ The saints preserve you forever, senora ! ” 


2 2o 


SAVED BY THE SWORD. 


At the time set for the signal Clifford Keinhardt, 
peering seaward through the darkness, saw a slender 
stream of fire shoot up to the lowering clouds, and 
like “ a bearded meteor trailing light, ” burst into a 
thousand brilliant fragments to illumine the waters. 

The broker turned from the window with a sigh 
of relief, to find that Madeline had quietly entered 
and was standing at his side, looking even more 
beautiful to-night, with love’s joyous light shining 
in her eyes, than on the day she had entered this 
ancestral home a wife only in the name. 

“ Are you reading your future in the stars, Clif- 
ford? ” she asked with tender interest. “ I trust it 
is a happy one, my husband ! ” 

“ My soul has found its star, darling,” he answered, 
drawing her close to his heart. “ God keep me 
within the circle of its own sweet influence !” 

As in some grouping on the mimic stage, when 
those whose estrangement has formed the principal 
interest of the drama have triumphed over evil, the 
prompter’s signal veils the unreal in seeming reality, 
and leaves the mind to fond imaginings, so now the 
curtain slowly falls upon these reunited lives, whose 
misery and final happiness we have seen through 
strange interpositions of fate : and as the picture 
fades before the vision, to appear again, it may be, 
in some far-off, dim perspective, there must inev- 
itably remain a childlike trustfulness in that 

“ Divinity that shapes our ends, 

Rough hew them as we will.” 














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